


Mrary of congress, 


Shelf 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, 


xz 

> 

>» 

Xl 


L» 

> : 



>zjC 

>■ 




S >C* 

> j* 


» 

>> 


» 

■. zv 


»> 

>■> 'll 


>> 



» 
























PRICE 25 CENTS. 

Saveli’s Expiation 

A RUSSIAN STORY. 

BY 

Henry G-reville. 

AUTHOR OF “ DOSIA." 

PHILADELPHIA: 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS: 

306 CHESTNUT STREET 




Books by Mrs. Southworth, Zola, etc., Published by 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, PHILADELPHIA, 

And Advertised on the Second and Third pages of this Cover, are for 
sale by all Booksellers and News Agents at 25 cents each. 

“PETERSONS' NEW 25 CENT SERIES" are the best, the most popular, 
and the fastest-selling books ever printed. ALL the books named on this page , and on 
the Third page of this cover , are in “Petersons' New 25 Cent Series," and are for sale , 
by ALL News Agents, at ALL Netvs Stands, by ALL Booksellers, and, by ALL those 
that sell books EVERYWHERE, and by the Publishers, T. B. Peterson & Brothers. 
THE MISSING BRIDE. By Mrs. Emma I). E. N. Southworth. 

MIRIAM ; The Avenger, or, The Bride of an Hour. By Mrs. Southworth. 
CAMILLE; or, THE FATE OF A COQUETTE. By Alex. Dumas. 

A MAD LOVE ; or, The Abbe and His Court. Bv Emile Zola. 

THE CORSICAN BROTHERS. By Alexander Dumas. 

RETRIBUTION. One of Mrs. Emma i). E. N. Southworth’s Best Books. 
DOSIA. Madame Greville’s Great Russian Masterpiece. 

MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS NAPOLEON. By Zola. 
TWO KISSES ; or, To Wed or Not. To Wed. By Captain Hawley Smart. 
EOLINE ; or, The Heiress of Glenmore. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. * 

JARL’S DAUGHTER. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

THE MILLIONAIRE’S WIFE. A Story of New England Society Life. 

THE EXILES. A Russian Story. By Victor Tissot and Constant Amero. 

LA BETE HUMAINE. (The Human Animal.) Emile Zola's Last Book. 
VIOLA; or, Adventures in the Far Southwest. Bv Emerson Bennett. 

CLARA MORELAND ; or, Adventures in the Far Southwest. By Bennett. 
INDIA; or, THE PEARL OF PEARL RIVER, By Mrs. Southworth. 
WORTH THE WOOING. By Lady Gladys Hamilton. 

FAIR PLAY. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

BRITOMARTE, THE MAN-HATER. Bv Mrs. Southworth. 

SIFTING MATRIMONY. By author of “SOCIETY RAPIDS.” 

SOCIETY RAPIDS. High Life in Washington, Saratoga, Bar Harbor, etc. 

HOW HE WON HER. Bv Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE CAPTIVE BRIDE.' By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

RENEE ; or, In the W hirlpool of iNapoleon’s Reign. Bv Emile Zola. 
HANDSOME MISS LISLE. Bv Ladv Gladys Hamilton. 

LOVE’S LABOR WON. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE MATCHMAKER. A Rich Vein of Inward Life. Bv Reynolds. 
MARRIED IN HASTE. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. A High Society Novel. 

MY LADY’S MASTER. Bv Ladv Mamie Rutledge. 

SAVELI’S EXPIATION. A Russian Storv. By Henry Greville. 

HELEN AND ARTHUR. Bv Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 

MRS. MAYBUltN’S TWINS.' By author of “ Helen’s Babies.” 

GEMMA. By T. Adolphus Trollope. His 'Charming Italian Story. 

BERTHA’S BABY. Full of Pathos, and Equal to “ Helen’s Babies.” 

News Agents and Booksellers will be supplied with any books in “Petersons' 

25 Cent Series " at low rotes , assorted, as they may wish them, to make up a dozen, 
hundred, or thousand, by the publishers, T.B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 

701' “ Peterson's New 25 Cent Series " will be found for sale at all News Stands , 
by all Booksellers , by all Neivs Companies, and by all that sell books everywhere. 

J0t" Copies will be sent to any one, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers, , 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


EXPIATION 


SAVELI’S 

A EUSSIAIT STOEY. 


Translated from the French of Henry Greville, 
by Mary Neal Sherwood. 



ii 


Henry Grlville' s most dramatic and most powerful novel, and the one that estab- 
lished her fame in Europe, is “Saveli’s Expiation which is a faithful portrayal 
of Russian despotism in the time of serfdom ; and although the character on which 
the plot rests is strongly drawn, it is not overdrawn, but is true to the times and 
situation. Powerful as it is, it is as free from exaggeration as if it were described 
from memory of an actual event, while a pathetic, tender love story is presented for 
relief. “Saveli’ s Expiation ” shows more power and wonderful concentration than 
any the author has written ; the descriptions are so vivid, and the characters and 
surroundings presented with such clearness and strength, that one is carried to 
the very scene and feels the atmosphere . — Boston Transcript. 


| 



f 


PHILADELPHIA: 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; 

306 CHESTNUT STREET. 


copyright: 

T- IB. PETERSON <5c BROTHERS. 

1891. 


V7 ' 



Saveli’s Expiation. By Henry Greville. A dramatic and powerful novel of 
Russian despotism in the time of serfdom ; combining in it a pure, pathetic and ten- 
der love story. Ti-anslated from the French of Henry Greville, by Mary Heal Sherwood. 

The name of Henry Greville is becoming familiar to the American public through the 
great popularity of her novels, for she is a writer of unusual genius and great originality. 
Her most dramatic and most powerful novel, and the one that established her fame in 
Europe, is “Saveli’s Expiation,” ( translated from the French , by Mary Neal Sher- 
wood ), which is a faithful portrayal of Russian despotism in the time of serfdom, and 
although the character on which the plot rests is strongly drawn, it is not overdrawn, 
but is true to the times and situation. Powerful as it is, it is as free from exaggeration 
as if it were described from memory of an actual event, while a pathetic, tender love 
story is presented for relief. “Saveli’s Expiation ” shows more power and wonderful 
concentration than any the author has written ; the descriptions are so vivid, and the 
characters and surroundings presented with such clearness and strength, that one is 
carried to the very scene and feels the atmosphere. Henry Grevi lie’s canvases are never 
crowded, though she is not what is called an emotional writer; yet there is an underly- 
ing tone of pathos in this novel which escapes at times in powerful passages, the inter- 
est being well sustained throughout, while the story is refined and exceedingly enjoya- 
ble. The charm of her novels consists in their freshness, her characters being delineated 
with bold yet delicate touches, and perfect truthfulness made subservient to art, so that 
one finds in them an individuality which makes them life pictures. Herein lies this 
author's power, for few could write novels which leave so strong an impression on the 
mind as hers, and yet employ so few incidents and so little of the sensational. Her por- 
trayal of life and manners, as well as her descriptions of scenery, give evidence of quick 
observation and keen analysis, and her language is peculiar for its figurativeness. Her 
characters are not tediously described, but represent themselves, like veritable dramatis 
personse, as do those from every masterly pen. Henry Greville is also a woman of edu- 
cation and intellect, second only to George Eliot, with whom foreign reviewers justly 
compare her, who also consider that she will take a higher rank than any novelist on the 
continent, and that it will outlast that of any of the popular writers of the day. She was 
employed by French journals to go to Russia to write for them; and, as Edward King 
says, “they fight for the possession of her pen.” — Boston Daily Evening Transcript. 

Gabrielle; or. The House of Maureze. Translated from the French of 

Madame Henry Greville, the most popular writer in Europe at the present time. 

“GABRIELLE; or, THE HOUSE OF MAUREZE,” is a very touching story, most 
skilfully told, and follows the life of a girl whose title it bears. At sixteen, when the 
story opens, she marries into the house of Maureze, never having seen her husband 
until she meets him at the altar, which was the custom of the time of Louis the Four- 
teenth. Monsieur Maureze was forty when his wife was sixteen. Maureze loved his 
young wife as well as he could love anything, but could not endure the sarcasm of his 
friends in his devotion to her, so he concluded to put his wife away from temptation, 
when, after a year or so, he leaves her in the Maureze Chateau, out of sight and out of* 
mind for eighteen years. Before rejoining his regiment, two children are born to them, 
but their parts are minor in the book, for it is of Gabrielle and her sorrows that the story 
treats. If we w ere to tell any more of the plot it would be to tell the story, so we advise 
our readers to get the book, and see for themselves how naturally everything happened, 
and how excellently it is all told. 

Above are 50 Cents each in paper cover, or $1.00 each in cloth, black and gold. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. BLUEBEARD 21 

II. SEED-TIME AND HARVEST 27 

III. A MIDNIGHT SCENE 34 

IV. A VISIT TO TOWN 46 

V. LASHES AND SIBERIA 53 

VI. DANIEL LOUKITCH BAGRIANOF 62 

VII. POOR LITTLE FEDOTIA 72 

VIII. “TURN back! INNOCENT DOVE, TURN back!” 81 

IX. BAGRIANOF ’S KERCHIEF J 90 

X. A RUSSIAN PRIEST 93 

XI. WEIRD FUNERAL MEATS 109 

XII. VENGEANCE 120 

xm. “fools! are you afraid?” : 130 

XIV. FREEDOM 135 

XV. CONFESSION IS GOOD FOR THE SOUL 143 

XVI. CHOOSING A CAREER 150 

XVII. A NEW HOME AND A NEW CHARACTER 158 

XVIII. LOVE’S YOUNG DREAM 166 

XIX. CATHERINE BAGRIANOF 176 

XX. THE FIRST KISS 180 

XXI. “AND THE SINS OF THE FATHER SHALL BE 

VISITED UPON THE CHILDREN ”... 186 

XXII. PARTING 198 

(19) 




SAVfiLI’S EXPIATION. 


TRANSLATED FROM THE 


FRENCH OF HENRY GREVILLE, 
BY MARY NEAL SHERWOOD. . 


CHAPTER I. 


BLUE BEARD. 



IHE manorial mansion of Daniel Loukitch Bagrianof 


-L — built of wood, upon a high foundation or base- 
ment of brick — stood in the centre of a large court-yard. 
On the right of this court extended a long, low range of 
stables and carriage houses, while on the left were the 
servants’ quarters and the bake-houses. 

The oval sward before the door divided the wide road 
like an island in the centre of a river. This road was 
built expressly for the Bagrianofs, and came in a direct 
line from the nearest post-station, eighteen versts aw T ay ; it 
was set thick on both sides with superb great birch trees, 
from the station to the very door, which door, it must be 
acknowledged, was not very superb. There were no walls 
on this side. A simple moat sufficed to defend the manorial 


( 21 ) 


22 


SAY ^ Li’s EXPIATION. 


dwelling against the wolves. As to men, that was quite a 
different matter. 

Who could have the audacity to even dream of 
passing this slight protection, more to be feared than the 
thorny hedges which surround enchanted castles ? Daniel 
Bagrianof had dogs, but his dogs fed on raw meat, and, let 
loose every night, were less to be feared than the cold, 
stern eyes of the Seigneur. 

No human being had ever seen Bagrianof angry. It 
was said that even as a child he had been guiltless of 
infantile irritability and rebellions. His pale face, his 
heavy eyebrows, and full rich beard were early frosted, 
and this gave him a look of great serenity. His steel 
gray eyes and thin lips alone suggested the pitiless tenacity 
and cold ferocity of this man. Although no one had ever 
seen him angry, it was also equally true that he had never 
within the memory of man been known to forgive an 
injury, voluntary or otherwise. A story was whispered 
about which gave a very accurate idea of his character. 
One fine day in his early youth, Bagrianof, having been 
ridiculed by a pretty woman behind her fan, took his 
revenge not upon her husband, but upon him who, right 
or wrong, was supposed to be on especially good terms 
with the lady. After having insulted him in a select 
assemblage, he ran him through the body in a duel a few 
hours later; and a week afterward said to the husband, 
carelessly : “ You owe me a great debt of gratitude, my 
dear fellow, for I have performed a task which in reality 
belonged to you : I have killed your wife’s lover.” 


SAVJ&LI’S EXPIATION. 


23 


The indignant husband sprang upon him they were 
separated, but the next day the lady was a widow. 

This- summary fashion of settling matters was quite 
enough to give even the most courageous a cold shiver; 
and after having seen Bagrianof behave in a similar way 
more than once, it was quietly decided by the noblesse of 
that district to let him alone; consequently, for several 
years, he was left very much to himself. “ I go nowhere,” 
he said, one day ; “ I am too comfortable at home ! 9 

As years went on, Bagrianof married. He took for a 
wife the daughter of a widower, his neighbor, whose 
estates were next his own. It was a marriage which had 
been long foreseen, and yet the announcement caused a 
great sigh of relief for thirty versts around, for no one 
need now fear that this terrible personage would appear as 
a suitor. 

The young wife, Alexandra Rodiovna, brought up in 
freedom in her father’s house, soon learned to moderate 
her childish glee. She ceased to laugh, then to speak, and 
finally learned to weep. All this in one short fortnight! 
And when her aged father, whose mind was much weak- 
ened, came to see her in her new home, he had much 
difficulty in recognizing his little household pet, his /Sacha , 
in this grave woman, with lowered eyelids and measured 
footfall — who spoke in whispers, and never volunteered a 
remark, but replied, when addressed, in evident fear and 
trembling. 

Bagrianof in the meantime called his wife, “My love, 
my life,” etc. ; but while he lavished upon her these tender 


24 sav£li’s expiation. 

epithets, the sardonic glances of those cold gray eyes 
followed every movement of the poor woman with strange 
insistence. 

Scanty as was the intelligence left, the girl’s father had 
quite enough to understand what his daughter’s lot would 
be in this world ; and, at the end of a very few weeks, 
grief and regret had killed him. 

Twenty years had passed away since then, and the des- 
tiny of Madame Bagrianof had in no way changed. She 
had brought into the world and nursed ten children, who 
had all died at a very early age. The eleventh child was 
a little girl — frail and delicate to such a degree that it was 
not supposed that she could survive, particularly as her 
mother had suddenly lost her milk, in consequence of a 
fright caused by her lord and master. This saved the 
child, who, handed over to a stout peasant woman, grew 
wonderfully, and developed like a timid little bird under 
the protecting care of her mother, who fairly idolized her. 

For many years Bagrianof had been in the habit of 
recruiting his seraglio from the hosts of pretty girls in his 
various villages. He summoned them to his house, made 
his selection, kept them a day, or possibly two days, 
ordered them to eat their meals in the kitchen, and then 
sent them off with some trifling gift — generally a kerchief 
of many colors, such as the women thereabouts wore on 
their heads, and of which he kept a large stock in a ward- 
robe in his dressing-room. 

In the village they had given up cursing him. What 
is the good of loading with imprecations the stone at the 


sav£li’s expiation. 


25 


mouth of the sepulchre which separates you forever from 
every living being? Bagrianof was as deaf and as dumb 
as this stone. From time to time, in obedience to imme- 
morial custom, the peasants went to entreat him to remit 
the payment of a tax until the next harvest, or to buy 
one of them off at the recruiting season. 

Lost labor! His cruel smile, his sarcastic laugh, his 
manner of a grand seigneur, which never left him — all 
these threw back more heavily than ever the stone which 
some vague hope had slightly lifted. Thus the peasants 
belonging to Bagrianof seemed to have forgotten all the 
laws' of hospitality. 

Unfortunate indeed was any traveller of noble birth 
who, losing his way, saw himself compelled to ask his road 
at one of these villages! Unfortunate was he who, in the 
heat of summer, implored a glass of water to staunch his 
thirst! He saw himself repulsed by the women, driven 
away with stones by the children, and pursued by snarling 
dogs. Every man of noble birth was, in their eyes, an 
enemy. 

The naked cabins, the arid soils and empty wells which 
they dared not feed from the spring lest there should not 
be a sufficiency of fresh water in their master’s house; the 
dilapidated granaries, the lean cattle, all spoke with elo- 
quence of the master’s tyranny; while in the neighboring 
villages the rustling wheat, green meadow-lands, and rich 
herds, all suggested wealth and prosperity. 

The peasant women from these last villages, in brilliant 
skirts and striped chemises, met at the wells the ragged 
girls belonging to Bagrianovka. 


26 


sav£li’s expiation. 


“Why do you not live like us?” they said, when they 
met these women — all worn and harassed by poverty, 
who were obliged to walk a good half-hour in the broiling 
sun to fill their pitchers. 

“Because the Seigneur takes everything,” they mur- 
mured, looking behind them in terror as they spoke. 

But later on they ceased to answer; their haggard eyes 
flashed with hatred as they looked at the happy people 
who had everything in such abundance. “The peasants 
at Bagrianovka live like wolves and devour each other!” 
was said, from time to time ; and soon it came to pass 
that no more pity was expended upon them. 


S A V £l I ’ S EXPIATION. 


27 


CHAPTER II. 

SEED-TIME AND HARVEST. 

T HE harvest of 1842 was exceptionally bad for the 
inhabitants of Bagrianovka. The soil had been 
burned to powder by the burning sun. There had been 
little or no rain for four months, which was the finishing- 
touch of misery to these poor people. 

In the interior — that is to say, back in the country — 
government had taken matters in hand and given wise 
assistance, while the granaries of the Seigneurs, which 
generally contained an amount of wheat sufficient for ten 
years, were drawn upon. But this was in no degree the 
case at Bagrianovka. They had nothing. The previous 
year, too, had not been favorable, and in the spring they 
had neglected to take to their masters the seed grain 
which was due. September had come; the scanty oats 
fluttered in the breeze, so sparse and empty were they that 
they were good for little more than fodder for the cattle. 
The harvest of wheat had been absolutely nothing; conse- 
quently, the Bagrianovka peasants saw themselves, one 
Sunday morning, face to face with the obligation of 
paying their rent to the Seigneur . that very day. The 
winter threatened to be a very severe one, and not one 
among the whole of them was certain of being able to feed 
his family until the spring. 


28 


S AVflLl’s EXPIATION. 


A little before the church was opened, the men 
gathered about the door. The starchina — the eldest man 
in the village— raised his voice and sadly spoke to this 
effect : 

“Brothers — we have nothing, and the commune has 
nothing — not even the necessities of life. We must 
implore the Seigneur to forgive us our debt until next 
year. Perhaps God will take pity on us and will grant 
us a better harvest time.” 

A mournful silence followed this proposition ; the 
drooping heads, and shoulders carelessly shrugged, an- 
nounced the hopelessness with which it was regarded by 
the peasants. 

“ Is there among you a man who will take it upon him- 
self to answer for the others?” added the starchina. “Is 
there one here who has any property which he is willing 
to put at the disposal of his brothers? If so, the kindness 
would never be forgotten.” 

The peasants looked at each other. Some few among 
them were not altogether penniless; but distrust comes 
quickly to those who are suffering. 

“What you say, starchina, is not reasonable,” said 
one who was less impoverished than the others; “you 
know very well that if one of us should show either wheat 
or money it would at once be taken from him, and then, 
how would that profit you ?” 

A dead silence followed, and just then the priest was 
seen coming toward the church ; the men drew aside for 
him to pass. 


saveli’s expiation. 


29 


“ Father, will you advise us,” said the starchina, “ for 
we cannot pay!” 

The priest was a man of about twenty-six, tall in figure 
and with a kind, honest face, a blond beard and long 
hair which made him look like the heads of Christ which 
are painted on the tabernacle doors. 

His face had an expression of great sweetness and yet 
of manly firmness, calculated to inspire both confidence 
and respect. With eyes brimful of pity, he looked 
around on these poor peasants. 

He was as yet new among them, had learned much of 
their miseries, but did not dream of the dull and sullen 
rage which slept in their souls. 

“Ask, my children, and it shall be given to you. Go 
to your Seigneur, and perhaps God will open his heart to 
hear your prayers.” 

“But he never grants them,” muttered a peasant, 
sulkily. 

“ He may, this time, Ilioncha. Never despair of 
Providence, my son. If you wish it, I will offer up a 
prayer after the mass.” 

“We cannot pay you, father,” said another man in the 
crowd. 

“Never mind that; have no anxiety on that score,” 
answered the priest, with a smile. “Come, children — 
prayer rests the weary heart. Perhaps God will soften 
that of your Seigneur to mercy and compassion.” 

He entered the church with the Sacristan, while the 
crowd followed slowly. 


30 


SAY £ Li’S EXPIATION. 


The Seigneur kept them waiting. He never allowed the 
services to begin without him. Then the bell began to 
strike slowly and regularly ; the master was coming. He 
crossed the threshold of the sacred edifice with his head 
haughtily erect, counting his men as he would his heads 
of cattle. He reached the elevated seat, the seigneurial 
tribune, separated from the rest of the church by a wooden 
railing; he took his seat, and the Diacre sang the first 
verse before the closed door of the Holy of Holies. 

Mass was over, and as Bagrianof was about to leave his 
place, he saw the priest in sacerdotal garments begin the 
prayer for mercy. Displeased with this unauthorized 
innovation, he frowned deeply. Who, then, in his church 
— his own especial church — had had the audacity to ask an 
especial prayer, without previously requesting his permis- 
sion? He was silent, however, but he examined each 
group in turn. 

His live-stock prayed with extraordinary fervor; their 
heads and shoulders, bowing in their responses, waved to 
and fro like a field of grain in a strong north wind. The 
words, “ Good Lord, have mercy upon us,” were uttered 
with intense feeling. 

Bagrianof remarked all this, but still said not a word. 

The prayer was over, and the priest having blessed the 
crowd, now advanced to the centre of the church, with the 
crucifix elevated between his two hands; ready to present 
it to the adoration of each one. The Seigneur did not 
stir. And no other person dared to move before he did; 
his wife looked at him with astonished eyes, and then, 
with a shudder, turned them hastily away. 


SAV^LpS EXPIATION. 


31 


He enjoyed his despotic authority over this crowd, 
over this priest, who stood firm and undisturbed, but very 
pale — apparently unmoved by this insult. Then the 
Seigneur advanced, made the sign of the cross, kissed the 
crucifix, made a second sign of the cross, and finally, 
examining the priest with hard, cruel eyes, he said : 

“And who, reverend father, commanded these prayers 
to-day ?” 

“ It was I only, my lord ; I thought that the wrath of 
heaven seemed let loose on these poor people, and that 
prayer was their only consolation.” 

“A very good idea!” replied Bagrian of, still smiling; 
“but I am not fond of novelties; remember this in future, 
I beg of you. Come and dine with us ! ” 

And with this contemptuous invitation, which was in 
fact a command, the master retired without awaiting any 
reply. The priest turned very pale at the insult, and his 
hands held the tall crucifix more firmly. He presented it 
to the lips of the next person who approached. Piously, as 
was the custom, she kissed also the hand which held the 
cross, and a tear fell on the fingers of the priest. He 
looked down upon her, and a smile full of benevolence 
flitted over his face. 

An hour later the deputation from the village presented 
itself before the mansion. Bagrianof, who had seen them 
approach, made them wait at least a good fifteen minutes, 
with their heads uncovered, standing in the north wind, 
which was tearing the dry leaves from the trembling trees; 
then, throwing on his fur pelisse and pushing a warm cap 
well down over his ears, he went out upon the balcony. 


32 


sav£li’s expiation. 


The ten or twelve poor devils who awaited his good 
pleasure were huddled together, and inclined themselves 
before him until they touched the ground with their fore- 
heads. When they were erect again the starchina entered 
the lists. 

“ Seigneur,” he said, “ the harvest has been very bad, as 
you know. God has not spared us — we promised to pay 
you the grain that we owed to you in the spring-time, but 
we cannot. Have compassion upon us. Wait for the pay- 
ment of this debt for one whole year; we will then pay 
you double what we owe you. And we will be grateful 
for your compassion until the end of our days.” 

Bagrianof listened with his cold smile; he looked from 
one to another, and then replied, in his most suave tones : 

“I do not know why you offer me double what you 
owe me, my children. Have I ever been looked upon by 
you as an avaricious man? Have I ever exacted more 
than my due from you? Then, my children,” said the 
master, “pay me the money you owe: I ask no more,” he 
continued, with a smile of triumph ; “ pay me that, and I 
shall be altogether satisfied, and all will go well ! ” 

“ We cannot pay it immediately,” stammered the 
starchina; “you know yourself that the harvest has been 
an absolute failure.” 

“A failure for me quite as well as for you,” answered 
Bagrianof ; “ I need money.” 

“ Money ! ” sighed the peasants. “And where can we 
get money ? ” 

“Where?” repeated Bagrianof, still perfectly calm. 


sav£li’s expiation. 33 

“ Where can you get it? How do I know? Do you ask 
me where? Have you not your fur pelisses and your farm 
implements, your cows and horses ? these are all worth 
money, I believe.” 

“ But the priest 1 ” 

“ Who is it, who says ‘ but ? ’ ” answered the master. 
“ I know no buts 1 Then you do not intend paying me 
to-day? Have you brought nothing?” 

“ No, master.” 

“Very well, I give you one week more, until next 
Sunday. If, by that time, you have not paid, there is but 
one means of compelling you to make money with which 
to pay me. The district of Olonetz has sent to me for 
some people to guard their geese, milk their cows, and to 
do farm- work generally. You have girls among you who 
are stout and hearty; I will have them valued, and I will 
sell them. You may in this way, you see, pay your 
debts and yet not untie your purse-strings. Farewell, my 
children, take care of yourselves.” 

He turned his back upon them and closed the door of 
his house. 

The district of Olonetz ! Exile to an icy desert ! fami- 
lies and homes broken lip ! The peasants departed in 
broken-hearted silence. 

“God curses us! It is the end of the world!” said 
Uioncha, as he entered his hut. 

He had five daughters, three of whom were of an age 
to be married. 

2 


34 


SAVJ&Ll’s EXPIATION. 


CHAPTER III, 


A MIDNIGHT SCENE 


IGHT came on, cold and desolate ; a ferocious wind 



-LM shook the trees, and the dry limbs fell to the 
ground. Great black clouds hurried athwart the young 
moon. The village was silent and as if struck by death. 
It was hardly eight o’clock, and yet the women and 
children in all the huts had gone to bed exhausted with 


tears. 


The men did not sleep, however. They were gathered 
together under the starch ina’s roof, where, in the darkness, 
they were taking counsel of each as to what should be 
done. The question was not one of easy solution. The 
sale of their cattle and of their tools could be but a pallia- 
tive. Spring would return, and then what were they to 
do? How could they cultivate the soil, which another 
year might be more fruitful, without the aid of a plough 
and a horse? Must they allow their daughters to depart? 
Many of them inclined to this alternative. It is a sad 
thing to say ; but poverty destroys all feeling among the 
Russian peasantry — even family affection — and allows 
only instincts to remain ; and that which is the strongest 
in the mother’s heart is for the child she has brought into 
the world. And the tall young girl, reserved and silent 
in the isba, is little more than a child. 


SAVfiLl’s EXPIATION. 


35 


But Ilioncha, nevertheless, could not resign himself to 
this idea; he loved his daughters — he had no sons — his 
three beautiful, strong daughters, who were each as good 
as a man to work. Besides he knew very well that a 
black mark stood against his name; and that owing to 
several feeble acts of insubordination, he was certain of 
being the first to suffer, if this last threat was carried into 
execution. 

“No,” he said, after a discussion interrupted by many 
a long silence; “no, I will never consent to seeing my 
daughters sold like sheep. And you may be sure, too, 
that he would deceive us as to the price they brought. 
No, I will not ! ” 

“ But what will you do, then ? Shall we all die ? ” 

“ No,” answered Ilioncha, dropping his voice ; “ if he 
should die, it would be enough ! ” 

A terrible silence followed. There was not one of these 
men who had not thought an hundred times that death 
alone could deliver thern from this insolent yoke ; but no 
one of them dared to say so. The daring thought did not 
seem to have been grasped. After waiting a moment, 
Ilioncha resumed : 

“ It would not be difficult ; there are only women in 
the house — the men all sleep in the servants’ quarters. 
It would be an affair of a moment; and we should be 
free — ■” 

“And then ? ” said a voice, which did not express either 
horror or opposition. 

“And then, nothing at all! The lady would own the 
estates, and she is not unkind.” 


36 


SAVfiLl’s EXPIATION. 


“And the blood?” 

“ If he is strangled, there would be no blood,” answered 
Ilioncha, with a calmness which showed that all these 
objections had been foreseen, and carefully considered. 
“ It would be an accident, of course. A stroke of apo- 
plexy, perhaps ! ” 

“He sleeps alone, does he not?” said a voice in the 
darkness ; no one knew who spoke. 

“Alone, in his dressing-room. The lady and the demoi- 
selle sleep in another part of the house, and their maids 
close at hand. We need make no noise.” 

“ And the dogs ? ” 

“We will kill a few chickens, and throw them to them 
while they are warm ; they like that, and will be quiet 
enough, I fancy.” 

Another dismal silence. 

“There are too many of us,” resumed Ilioncha; “five 
are enough, or even four, if you agree.” 

“ Pie is very strong,” said the same voice, from the 
corner; “he will defend himself.” 

“So be it then. There shall be five of us. With a 
good gag he can make but little noise, and we will not 
give him much time to struggle. Well, is this agreed?” 

Another silence. 

“ Is this agreed ? ” repeated Ilioncha, angrily. There 
was no reply. “ You are only women ! ” he cried, and he 
spat on the ground, as a sign of contempt. 

“ It is agreed ! ” repeated the four or five men, not 
without terror. 


sav£li’s expiation. 


37 


“ Then let us take an oath ! Who is here ? ” said 
Ilioncha, with a tone of triumph in his voice. 

The peasants gave their names one by one. 

“ Do you swear to secresy ? and that you will die rather 
than speak ? ” 

“ We swear ! ” they answered, as with one voice. 

“ Upon your everlasting salvation ? ” 

‘‘Upon our everlasting salvation!” 

“ Who will go with me?” 

“ Make your own choice,” said a voice. “ We do this 
thing for the good of our families, and for the welfare of 
the whole village; it is not a revenge that we execute. 
Choose those whom you wish to have go with you; thev 
shall go.” 

Ilioncha named four stout, strong men. They were 
among those whom he knew his Seigneur disliked, and 
who where themselves very discontented. 

“ Let us wait two hours longer,” he said. “ When the 
moon is lower in the sky will be the hour when the Seig- 
neur sleeps the soundest ; we will surprise him then.” 
“You others,” he continued, turning to those who re- 
mained, “ you go to bed as usual, and do not appear to be 
in expectation of anything ; everything, to-morrow, must 
go on as usual.” 

Towards midnight Ilioncha, followed by his band, reso- 
lutely entered the court-yard by leaping the moat. The 
dogs growled, but the still warm chickens made them wel- 
come the intruders as if they were friends. The door of 
the house, fastened by an ordinary lock, yielded to Uion- 


38 


sav£l.i’s expiation. 


cha’s manipulations, and the conspirators, who well knew 
their way, reached the door of the Seigneur’s dressing-room, 
which was no better defended than the rest of the 
house. 

A lamp burned in the corner before the Holy Images, 
and its light under the door stopped for a moment the 
men who were about to imperil their lives. They lis- 
tened; they heard no unusual noise. The long-drawn 
breathing of Bagrianof told that he was asleep ; this, and 
the creaking of the boards under their weight, the cry of 
a distant bird, were all the sounds. They entered the 
room. 

Bagrianof started up in bed. He was about to shout 
for assistance, when a large gag, adroitly applied, muffled 
every sound, and he fell back, half choking, with a cord 
around his neck. 

The murderers stood still, and looked at each other and 
then at their lord. 

Their enemy was in their power, and they had nothing 
now to prevent them from taking his life. But this, 
which had seemed such a very simple thing to do in the 
face of danger and a struggle, became absolutely impossi- 
ble in the presence of this utterly defenceless man. 

Bagrianof, motionless, watched them with angry, half- 
maddened eyes. His face was partially concealed. The 
fingers of his right hand, which were alone free, made the 
sign of the cross upon his breast, while he appeared to 
be praying. 

" What does he want?” said one of the peasants. 


SAVELI'S EXPIATION. 


39 


“ He wishes, probably, before he dies, to ask God to 
forgive him and receive his soul/’ answered another. 

“Listen, Seigneur,” said Ilioncha. “You are about to 
die because you are so hard and cruel toward us, and 
because you are deaf to the voice of compassion.” 

Unconsciously this uncultivated man fell into a lofty 
phraseology, a phraseology which was almost Biblical — 
for the Bible is read in the Slavonic dialect during the 
services of the Russian church. 

“ We wish thy death,” he continued, “ because in that 
way alone can we be liberated from thy thraldom ; but we 
do not wish also to sacrifice thy soul. Repent, and pray 
to God that He will receive thy sinful soul into His celes- 
tial kingdom.” 

Bagrianof moved his fingers again upon his breast. 

“ He cannot even make the sign of the cross,” said one 
of the conspirators. “ Let us untie his right hand and let 
him say his prayers.” 

Ilioncha loosened, therefore, Bagrianof’s right hand, 
who used it to point to the Holy Images and to the Holy 
Gospel, which lay open on a desk. This pitiless being, 
this insolent Seigneur, this hard and cruel man prayed 
devoutly morning and night, and never retired until he 
had read some verses from the Scriptures. 

“ You wish to read ? ” said one of the peasants. “ Yo; 
you had best pray — that will do you more good.” 

Bagrianof, still humble and submissive, made a negative 
.gesture, and extended his hand to the volume. Upon the 
same desk lay a crucifix. 


40 


sav£li ? s expiation. 


“ Is it the crucifix you want?” 

Bagrianof made a sign in the affirmative. 

“ Bring him the crucifix and let him kiss it,” said Ilion- 
cha. “ But remember, Seigneur, if you make a noise, we 
shall pull that cord so quickly that you will have no time 
to make your peace with your Maker ! Give me that 
handkerchief,” he added, to his companions. 

They passed the handkerchief around Bagrianoffis neck, 
and Ilioncha made in it a slip-knot, and held the end in 
his hand ; then another peasant brought the cross, and a 
third removed the gag. 

Bagrianof drew a long breath, closing his eyes that he 
might not show the great joy he felt. It was an enormous 
step that he had regained the power of speech. He was 
almost certain now that he should succeed in saving his 
life. 

“My good friends,” he said, gently, “I am indeed 
guilty toward you and toward God ; but, if you give me 
time for repentance, I swear to you that the remainder of 
my life shall be consecrated to repairing the evil which I 
have done to you.” 

The phrase was long, but skilfully turned, for he had 
had time to mature it. 

“Yes, yes!” said Ilioncha, disdainfully; “we know 
you. You speak very smoothly to-day, and to-morrow 
you will send us off to Siberia.” 

“No! I swear to you that I will not;” and Bagrianof 
again quickly signed the cross. “I understand now all 
the harm I have done, because I see that it is my acts 


sav£li’s expiation. 


41 


which have led you to commit the horrible crime of mur- 
der — a crime so detestable in the sight of God. May the 
sin rest upon my own head. Had I been a kind, indul- 
gent master, you would not have conceived a project which 
the church would never pardon, and which delivers your 
souls to the anger of the Omnipotent.” 

* Think of your own soul, rather than of ours,” said 
Ilioncha, harshly. 11 We have time to repent, but for you 
the moments are counted. Go on — ask God’s pardon, 
and let us get through.” 

“ If you give me my life, I shall look on you as my 
benefactors,” said Bagrianof, in his most persuasive voice, 
" and I will forgive you your debts. I will do more : I 
will give you wheat enough to last your whole village all 
through the winter. My granaries are full, as you know. 
And in addition, each one of you shall have a bag of 
potatoes.” 

“ Pshaw ! ” said one of the peasants, “ that is not 
much.” 

“ Let us finish ! ” interposed Ilioncha, tightening the 
handkerchief in his hand. 

The peasant’s words had convinced Bagrianof that if he 
offered enough he could escape. The conspirators were 
none of them as resolute as Ilioncha, and the idea of the 
murder and the everlasting punishment he held before 
them terrified their timid consciences. 

“A bag of potatoes for every man in the village,” re- 
sumed the Seigneur, “ and a half-bag for each woman and 
child. And in addition, I will make you a present of 
your dues for the coming year.” 


42 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


“Enough ! ” cried Ilioncha, imperiously, for he felt his 
enemy slipping through his fingers. “ Say no more.” 
And he pulled the handkerchief. One of his companions 
caught his arm. 

“But if the master will do what he says — and perhaps 
a little more,” they exclaimed, “ it would not be worth 
while to kill him.” 

“ So be it then ! ” answered Ilioncha ; “ I feel the knouts 
upon ray back, and know that my body will rot on the 
plains of Siberia. It is your will, my brothers; and it 
shall be as you choose. I seek only your good.” 

He turned his back and took a seat at the other end of 
the room. 

“ What else will you give us if we do not take your 
life?” asked one of the peasants, while the others hesi- 
tated and looked toward Ilioncha, who seemed unconscious 
of anything that was going on around him. 

“ I will give you the meadow by the side of the river 
for a pasture for your cattle,” said Bagrianof, now secure 
of his safety. 

This meadow was the finest bit of pasture land any- 
where in the vicinity, and was in fact the wonder and 
envy of the whole neighborhood. It brought in enormous 
crops of hay, which were worth a million of silver 
roubles per annum. The peasants, subjugated by all 
this magnificence, looked first at him and then at each 
other. 

“You promise to-day, and to-morrow will take back 
all your words. Upon what do you promise ? ” 


sav£li’s expiation. 


43 


“ My eternal salvation.” 

“ That is not enough,” said the peasant. “ You sin, 
and then you repent, and then you sin again ; but the 
Lord is merciful. Swear on something else.” 

“Upon the cross!” said Bagrianof, his eyes sparkling 
with joy. 

The cross was held before him. 

“ Swear to give us all that is due to you for the two 
years that have just elapsed, and for the whole of the 
coming year.” 

“ I swear,” said Bagrianof. 

“ Repeat it all,” cried the peasants, full of distrust. 

Bagrianof repeated the entire phrase, word for word. 

“ And to give us wheat and potatoes, as you promised?” 

“ The wheat and potatoes as I promised,” repeated the 
Seigneur. “ I swear it.” 

“And the meadow by the river side, just as it is? ” 

“ Just as it is, with the barns that are now upon it,” 
repeated Bagrianof. “And now I take an oath — ” 

“ To never reveal to a human being anything that has 
happened this night,” interrupted Uioncha, rising hastily. 
“ To be always indulgent and merciful toward your 
peasants, chaste with our daughters, and honest in your 
accounts of our day’s work.” 

“I swear,” repeated Bagrianof, “never to repeat what 
has happened here ; I swear to be indulgent toward you, 
reserved toward your daughters, and exact in the 
accounts.” 

“Swear this on your immortal soul, and upon your 


44 


sav£li’s expiation. 


body, and on the cross whereon the Saviour died for us 
all — for you as well as for me,” repeated Ilioncha. 

“ I swear it on my soul, in the fear of eternal damna- 
tion, and upon the cross on which our blessed Saviour 
died for us ! ” 

The peasants made rapid signs of the cross, and kissed 
the crucifix. Bagrianof followed their example. 

“ Now, my boys, untie me ! ” he said, half gayly. 

He was untied ; he rose, drew up his tall form, and 
took two or three steps. His eyes, full of malice, met 
the suspicious glance of Ilioncha, who looked around, 
thinking there must be arms of some kind near at 
hand. 

“We are lost!” he said to his companions. “I told 
you how it would be, but you would have it so ! Adieu,” 
he continued, addressing his master; and, with his head 
held high in the air, the old peasant preceded Bagrianof, 
who had not laid aside his jesting air, to the door. 

“ Do not forget your oath ! ” cried the peasants, smitten 
by a sudden fear. 

“ Be without fear, my friends,” answered the Seigneur, 
going with them to the door. “To-morrow, at noon, we 
will sign the paper which gives my meadow to your 
Commune. Good-night.” 

The peasants crouched along like whipped hounds 
behind Ilioncha, who walked with a haughty bearing 
and a dignified step, like a man who is utterly indifferent 
to all that can ever happen to him again. 

When they disappeared at the turning of the road, 


SAVfiLl’s EXPIATION. 


45 


Bagrianof opened the door again noiselessly, and went to 
his stables. He aroused his coachman, and spoke to him 
with unusual amiability. 

“ Harness two good horses,” he said ; “ wrap the wheels 
of the drozhki in hay, and also the animals’ hoofs. I 
have business in town, and I do not wish any one here to 
know that I have gone.” 

A half hour later, and the equipage stole down the soft 
sandy road. The village and the mansion were one 
confused black mass in the darkness. When they reached 
the broad government road, Bagrianof threw himself 
back in a corner of his carriage and laughed a long, 
silent laugh. 

“ Fools ! idiots ! ” he said, in a whisper. 


46 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


CHAPTER IV. 


A VISIT TO TOWN 


IE sun had been up about two hours, when Bagrianof 



-L entered the town. He went directly to the authori- 
ties. The governor-general received him with excessive 
coldness. 

“ Your peasants wish to kill you, you say ? And of 
what do they complain — for I presume that it is not with- 
out a motive that they have reached this point?” 

“They are not willing to pay their dues, nor the amount 
they owe for their seed.” 

“ The harvest has been better with you then than with 
your neighbors?” 

“ No, your excellency, it has not,” said Bagrianof, biting 
his lips. 

“ You are the master, of course,” replied the governor, 
“ and equally, of course, it is none of my affairs. But you 
say that they released you after all ? ” 

“As you may suppose, your excellency, since I am here.” 

“And on what conditions?” 

“The conditions are of little consequence; promises 
extorted by threats are of no consequence, and amount to 
nothing in law.” 

“Precisely,” said the governor; “and without doubt, 
the first of these trifling, unimportant conditions was 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


47 


secrecy, and naturally you came at once to denounce 
them ! ” 

“ Is that amazing, your excellency ?” asked Bagrianof, 
in the tone of persiflage which was natural to him. He 
felt his blood boil with anger under the contemptuous 
glance of the man before him. 

“ No, Monsieur Bagrianof, it is not in the least amazing. 
Do you wish inquiry made ? ” 

“ No ; that is not necessary. My simple deposition will 
suflice, I think.” 

“ Not precisely ; but if you have any proofs — ” 

Bagrianof’s face darkened. He, a nobleman, to be 
called upon to furnish proofs! — to be confronted with his 
peasants ! 

“ Have them examined, your excellency — that certainly 
ought to suflice. But while waiting for this, I ask for an 
armed force which shall protect me against these des- 
peradoes.” 

“That is reasonable enough. You know, of course, 
that the lash and Siberia will be the lot of these poor 
creatures, if I may call them so?” 

“ I sincerely trust that it will.” 

“Very well, sir; your request will be granted, and your 
village occupied with government troops this evening.” 

“ I thank your excellency,” said Bagrianof, going toward 
the door. 

He had his .hand upon it, when the governor-general, 
with a sudden movement of impatience, knocked down a 
book which was on the corner of his desk. Bagrianof 
turned. The two men looked at each other for a moment. 


48 


sav£li*s expiation. 


“ Do you know, sir,” said the governor, “ that your 
peasants, when you were in their power, made a great 
mistake in not killing you at once?” 

“ I cannot say that I agree with you,” answered the 
Seigneur. “ I have the honor of bidding your excellency 
a very good-morning.” 

The governor-general walked two or three times up and 
down the salon, a prey to that unreasoning rage common 
to honest men who see rascals escape from their hands. 
Finally, seeing that there was no way of changing matters, 
he seated himself at his desk, turned over some papers 
impatiently, and wrote an order commanding that troops 
should be stationed at Bagrianovka. 

“ There are not many knaves of this kind!” he mur- 
mured, signing a paper, with a gesture of displeasure; 
“ not many like him ; but few as they are, they disgrace 
our country in our own eyes as well as in those of stran- 
gers. If they had but killed him!” he repeated, with 
emphatic regret. 

Bagrianof went to the best hotel in the town. It was a 
house built of brick, and whitened with lime outside as 
well as within ; brown cockroaches ran freely over the 
carefully washed floors; a vague, disagreeable odor hung 
around the crimson curtain — the result of years of use. 
Waiters in red shirts, and with very dirty napkins hanging 
over their arms, ran here and there about the house, carry- 
ing trays filled with cups of tea. When Bagrianof entered, 
everybody looked at him curiously; and those who sat at 
tables in the farthest corners of the room leaned forward 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 49 

to see the terrible Seigneur with the white beard, whom 
the nurses called upon as they did on croque mitaine to 
quell refractory children. More flattered than wounded 
by this curiosity, Bagrianof touched his hat. 

“ Good-morning, gentlemen,” he said. 

A timid “ good-morning” greeted him in return. If 
people were in no hurry to quarrel with him, they were 
equally disinclined to have any intimacy with him. A 
waiter hurriedly wiped down a table, which had been 
vacated as by enchantment; and Bagrianof took his seat 
then, establishing himself comfortably. The room was 
strangely silent as the proprietor of the hotel approached 
and obsequiously bowed to the very earth. 

“What will your lordship have?” he said, in dulcet 
tones. 

“My lordship wishes to dine; bring the best you have, 
and that very quickly ! ” 

An excellent menu was speedily arranged. 

“And some sweetmeats,” added Bagrianof. “I like 
sweetmeats.” The host disappeared like a shadow from 
a Chinese lantern. 

A linen merchant in the town decided to open a conver- 
sation. 

“You have come to town then, my lord?” he said, not 
without some astonishment at his own boldness. 

“As you see,” answered Bagrianof, stretching himself 
out on two chairs. 

“ Permit me to ask if it is for business or for pleasure,” 
continued the merchant, more boldly. 

3 


50 


sav£lj ? s expiation. 


“ For both,” replied Bagrianof, pleasantly ; “ but I shall 
buy nothing to-day, Andr6 Prokofitch.” 

“ Oh ! it was not on that account I asked. But does 
not your highness intend to make any purchases?” 

The dinner-tray appearing at that moment obviated the 
necessity of any reply from Bagrianof. He began to eat 
with very great enjoyment. The excitement of the 
previous night, and this cold October journey, had given 
him a most extraordinary appetite. He dined freely, and 
drank a bottle of Bordeaux — he liked French wines; 
ordered a cup of coffee ; then tipped his chair back against 
the wall, and looked about with a mocking glance. 

“And now, dearly beloved, you would like to know, 
possibly, what brought me to town?” 

“ Yes, my lord, certainly,” said a stout man, who hap- 
pened to occupy the next table. 

“ Well, then, my good fellows, I will proceed to satisfy 
your curiosity. I came because my peasants — blast them ! 
— undertook to assassinate me in the night.” 

A murmur of astonishment, rather than of horror, ran 
through the group. 

“Yes,” continued Bagrianof, excited by the wine he 
had taken ; “ they tried to assassinate me ; but I promised 
them all they wanted, and they let me go — the fools ! 
You think they are fools, too, do you not? Say it then !” 
and the Seigneur pushed the linen merchant rudely, he 
being within reach of his arm. 

The entire group recoiled with one movement. There 
was no more laughing. 


sav£li’s expiation. 


51 


Bagrianof frowned slightly, and scrutinized the faces 
about him ; then, remembering suddenly that he was not 
upon his estates, he resumed his indifferent attitude, 
leaning back in his chair against the wall. 

“Yes,” he continued, “they let me go, and I went! I 
came to the governor-general's. He is not very agree- 
able, this governor-general of yours ; he is an old block- 
head ; but all the same, the village will be occupied by 
troops to-morrow, and the good Christians who wished to 
send me to Paradise will themselves be despatched to 
Siberia, after they have received the proper number of 
lashes. This is why I said I came for pleasure, as well as 
for business ! " 

The icy silence still continued ; insensibly the circle was 
widening around Bagrianof. 

“Here, garc^on, give me a little music. I always want 
music after dinner !" he cried. 

One of the waiters glided up to the huge hand-organ 
which invariably stands at the upper end of the salle 
d' honneur in every Russian inn, and began to turn the 
heavy crank. 

“Quicker!" exclaimed the Seigneur. “I like dance 
music. Am I not right, good people?" 

He turned around to obtain a sign of assent, but the 
room was vacant. The waiter who had served him at 
table was alone to be seen, and this boy stood behind him 
w r ith a napkin in his hand, watching him in evident fear 
and trembling. 

“Call your master!" said Bagrianof, in a voice of 
thunder. 


52 sav£li’s expiation. 

The master appeared, bowing low, fearing some 
trouble. 

“ Why are these people gone?” asked the Seigneur. 

“ Business, my lord, business ! It is market day.” 

“You lie!” said Bagrianof, calmly. “It is neither 
market day nor Friday. You are afraid of me because I 
said I intended to have my peasants who wished to kill 
me, well flayed. I have but one regret, and that is that 
you do not all belong to me, that I might be able to send 
you every one off to Siberia. Give me your bill and have 
my horses harnessed. I prefer the wild beasts in my own 
forests to bleating sheep like you and the people about 
you.” 

Notwithstanding the entreaties of the landlord, Bagri- 
anof departed at once ; but he did not hurry his horses, as 
he did not care to arrive too soon. 

As he drew near the village he caught a gleam of 
sunlight on the helmets of the soldiers who were encamped 
near the entrance. He rubbed his hands softly, and 
entering his house, received a cup of tea from the hands 
of his wife, who dared not ask him a question. 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION, 


53 


CHAPTER Y. 

LASHES AND SIBERIA. 

T HE examination into the attempted assassination of 
the evening before was by no means a lengthy one. 
The accused peasants took refuge in an obstinate silence, 
which was sufficient in itself to prove their guilt. 
Ilioncha, alone, consented to open his lips. 

"Well, and what then?” he said to the officer who 
questioned him, “ what if I did wish to kill my master ? 
In the first place, it is none of your affairs. You towns- 
people know nothing about us; you only come to tie our 
hands and feet, and send us off to Siberia, occasionally. 
Do you ever know what we think, what we do, and what 
we suffer? You know nothing whatever about us, as I 
said before, except that we are miserable wretches, born 
only to do harm to others. How is it that there are good 
peasants in the next Commune, who love their masters, 
and serve them faithfully? The only reason we did not 
long ago do what we attempted last night is, because we 
have been as patient as sheep. We are not, however, the 
only servants who have wished to kill their Seigneurs ; it 
was done in ancient times, and will be done again, unless 
the good God above takes pity upon us poor peasants.” 

The official who conducted this melancholy business 
was a man of both sense and heart ; for a long time he had 


54 


sav£li’s expiation. 


indulged in dreams of emancipation. He allowed the accused 
to speak without interruption. When Ilioncha relapsed 
into silence — his face still distorted with sullen rage, and 
his clenched fists extended — he looked at the peasant with 
profound compassion ; he wished to offer some consolation, 
but could say nothing, as he could neither pardon nor set 
the men free, and, feeling therefore that every word was 
too much, he was silent. 

The five guilty peasants, with several others of whose 
animosity toward him Bagrianof was fully aware, were 
condemned each to two hundred lashes, and to the mines 
of Siberia for life. 

They heard their sentence without a quiver of their eye- 
lids ; but all day long the village rang with the cries and 
groans of women and children. The sorrow which was 
within so many of the cabins spread outside in great waves 
of lamentation. 

Bagrianof, who in his own home heard these bitter 
cries of the women crouched on the thresholds of their 
dwellings, began by rejoicing at their desolation ; but ere 
long his nerves, more sensitive than usual, were disturbed 
by this sad, monotonous wail. He wished to send an 
order for it to cease, but at the first word he uttered to the 
stanovoi charged with the commission, the man replied, 
with some sharpness : 

“ It is the custom, and I have no power to do what you 
ask!” 

To Bagrianof remained, however, the supreme happi- 
ness of assisting at the execution of the sentence. He did 


SAVJ&Ll’s EXPIATION. 


55 


not attempt to conceal the pleasure he felt. Under his very 
eyes the shoulders of the poor wretches who had given 
him his life were uncovered. They were tied upon a sort 
of hurdle, and, in the presence of the whole village, drawn 
up in a circle, the soldiers applied the knout. 

At the cry of the first victim, the blood rushed to Bag- 
rianof’s pale face. A ferocious joy glittered in his pale 
eyes as he looked about him ; his servants were all 
gathered upon the wide porch like a guard of honor, but 
Madame Bagrianof was not there. The Seigneur went 
into the house, and reappeared with his pale, half-fainting 
wife, whom he had found prostrated before the Images. 

“ Your nerves are too weak, my dear,” he said to her, 
as he held her up with his strong right hand, half crushing 
her delicate wrist in his rough grasp. “ It is always a 
good thing for us to see the guilty punished ! Remember, 
my love, that they wished to deprive you of your hus- 
band ! ” 

Madame Bagrianof with closed eyes started convulsively 
at each scream of the sufferers. The punishment continued, 
and the groans changed to one continuous rattle. 

The lips of the lady murmured prayers mechanically, 
for she no longer understood the words. 

“One hundred!” said the Stanovoi, who counted the 
lashes. “ Stop ! ” 

“ They have finished?” murmured Madame Bagrianof, 
turning her livid face toward her husband. 

“ By no means ! A hundred more, my turtle-dove! ” 

“ Have mercy on them, Daniel Loukitch — that mercy 


56 


sav£li ? s eipiatiok. 


which you hope to receive; and God will allow you to 
enter Paradise. Have mercy on them!” 

“ You wish, perhaps, that they had succeeded in killing 
me ? ” said the Seigneur, coldly. 

“ Mercy ! mercy ! ” she whispered, hardly knowing what 
she said. 

“ Go on ! ” said Bagrianof, in a firm voice, as he raised 
his hand. 

The lashes whistled through the air ; a wild shriek was 
heard, and Madame Bagrianof fell unconscious. 

“ Chicken-hearted creature ! ” said her husband, shrug- 
ging his shoulders. “Take your mistress away!” he 
added to the servants. “Burn some feathers or some- 
thing under her nose ; it is a sovereign remedy in fainting- 
fits, I believe.” 

The chastisement continued and concluded amid profound 
silence. The exhausted women wept no more ; many 
of them were lying with their faces crushed into the earth 
in a despair which had neither words nor tears. The 
patients were, some of them, unconscious, the others indif- 
ferent and benumbed. Great drops of sweat stood on their 
foreheads — great drops of blood on their lacerated backs. 

When all was over, they were untied and given a little 
brandy, after which they were led to the parish record 
office, which served on occasion for a prison. 

The stanovoi, less hard-hearted than the Seigneur, 
although such spectacles were only too familiar to him, 
permitted the poor women — either out of compassion to 
them or hatred to Bagrianof — to come and bathe their 


sav£li’s expiation. 


57 


husbands’ wounds. Like the holy women of the gospel, 
the peasants glided noiselessly into the low, narrow room, 
where the unfortunate men lay on heaps of straw ; for a 
few moments they mingled their tears of compassion with 
the groans of pain. 

Then tender hands washed the wounds with fresh, cool 
water ; gentle kisses like the sound of wings were heard, 
as if the angels of mercy hovered over this scene of horror, 
bringing to the martyrs the blessed balm of pitying tears. 

Bagrianof came also, not from charity, nor to bring any 
consolation ; but for the first time in his life he met with 
resistance. 

The Stanovoi on the threshold absolutely forbade him 
to enter the prison. 

“ Here ! ” said the Seigneur, “ on my own estates ! ” 
He was more surprised than angry at the opposition he 
encountered. 

“For the present, my lord, I am in charge of this 
prison,” said the good man, brave above his class. “ I 
cannot allow any one to disturb my prisoners.” 

“I will have every bone broken in your body! you 
may rely on that,” replied Bagrianof, with a shrug of his 
shoulders, and glaring at the audacious being who ventured 
to dispute his will. 

“As you please, sir ; and you can make application for 
my place,” said the Stanovoi, turning his back. 

This tragedy had still another act ; for the next day the 
condemned, strongly bound, were lifted upon carts, to 
which two horses were harnessed. The soldiers marched 


58 SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 

each side of the vehicles, and the stanovoi gave the signal 
of departure. 

Then from the whole village arose a great cry of lamen- 
tation. The whole population, men and women, old and 
young, mourned for the brothers who would die far from 
their own land, far from their own people, far from the 
spot where they had found life so hard, and yet where 
they were beloved. 

The exiles themselves had exhausted their tears. Some 
of them were in a high fever, and the others, stupefied by 
despair, allowed those who remained behind to weep for 
them. 

Just as this melancholy procession was about to start, 
the priest came out of the church, his head uncovered, and 
his long, fair hair floating over his shoulders, holding a 
tall crucifix in his hand. His face wore an expression 
of lofty faith, which was almost prophetic. He ap- 
proached the first wagon. 

“Our blessed Lord/’ he said, “has commanded us to 
pray for those who travel by land or by sea. May His 
blessing rest upon you ! ” 

The enamelled silver crucifix was held over the con- 
demned, and forgiveness fell upon the martyrs. 

Bagrianof, with folded arms, looked on at this spectacle 
with increasing astonishment — that his priest — his own 
priest — nourished by a salary from his hands — should 
allow himself to speak to this cattle, without permission 
from him ! That he should bless and offer the cross to 
the people who had sought to kill his master, the Seigneur 


sav£li’s expiation. 


59 


Bagrianof! It was incredible! Was the world then 
turned upside down? He determined to have an expla- 
nation with this simpleton, who, after all, was but a boy, 
just from college. 

As the wagon moved off, Ilioncha found strength to lift 
his heavy head. 

“ Seigneur,” he cried, “ listen to me. We forgave you; 
we believed you, and you betrayed us ; but others will be 
wiser than we, and will not fail in what they undertake ! ” 

The entire village followed the condemned as far as 
their poor strength would take them. The very young 
children, confided to the care of the old, and the sick, were 
alone left in the darkened houses. The dogs wandering 
about the square howled dismally. Bagrianof threw a 
few stones at them, and put them to flight ; after which 
valiant deed he turned and looked at the Rectory, which 
stood opposite the church. Upon the threshold he saw the 
priest. The eyes of the two men met; those of the 
Seigneur cold, and yet fierce, while the priest’s were full of 
dignity and of holy wrath. 

Bagrianof stepped forward. 

“Vladimir Andreitch,” said he, “who are you?” 

“An humble servant of the Lord Jesus Christ and of His 
church,” was the answer, and the priest removed his hand 
from the latch of his door. 

“ You are also a servant in my church, I presume?” 

“ I serve God, certainly, my lord, in the church which 
you have built and consecrated to Him.” 

“Do you not know that a good priest attends to the 
affairs of the church, and never to those of the Seigneur ? ” 


60 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


“ I am aware of that, and I never meddle with the 
affairs of any one.” 

“ On the contrary, sir, you meddle with mine. Your 
conduct displeases me, Vladimir Audreitch ; I advise you 
to think it over. The Rectory is comfortable ; there are a 
goodly number of deaths here, baptisms and marriages. 
Your wife, I think, is enceinte?” 

The priest made an affirmative sign. 

“ I think myself that you will do well, therefore, to 
remain here ; but to do so you must change your conduct. 
I give you one week for reflection.” 

The priest bowed, without replying, and entered his 
dwelling. His young wife ran to meet him, and threw 
herself weeping into his arms. She was a pretty creature, 
all pink and white, but frail and delicate — not more than 
eighteen. 

“ What did that wicked man say to you?” she ex- 
claimed, as she buried her face on her husband’s shoulder 
with a shudder. 

“ I think, Marie, that we must make our preparations to 
leave.” 

“ To leave! Ah, good heavens ! and my unborn child 
— and the winter coming on ! If we leave, where shall 
we go ? ” 

“ I cannot tell you, my child. We are in God’s hands, 
and must trust to His mercy. He takes care of the birds 
of the field ; why not, then, of an unborn babe?” 

“ Tell me, Vladimir, is there noway of smoothing matters 
over with the Seigneur? You make him very angry, you 
know, when you oppose his wishes. Can you not — ” 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


61 


The priest laid his right hand on the head of his fair 
young wife, who was still but a child. 

“ Marie,” he said, “the duty of all God’s servants is to 
reprove and repress iniquity. Never speak to me again 
like this, dear child. It is a sin. Look,” he added, lead- 
ing his sobbing wife toward an engraving hanging on the 
wall, which represented the flight into Egypt; “if it must 
be, we will depart, like them, and, like the infant Saviour, 
our child will also find some shelter provided for him.” 

The young wife, half comforted, laid her head again on 
her husband’s manly breast and listened to his tender 
words of consolation. 


62 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


CHAPTER VI. 


DANIEL LOUKITCH BAGEIANOF. 

AGRIANOF should have been now content, but he 



-J — * was not. The manner in which the innocent and 
the guilty had been punished was not satisfactory to him. 
It was hardly worth the trouble to have the knout applied 
to them, and to send them to Siberia, if general compassion 
was felt for them instead of for himself! Could it be 
possible that at each village “ the poor creatures,” as, 
throughout the length and breadth of Russia, these unhappy 
prisoners were called, had fresh water, milk, kvass, 
tobacco, and hot tea, with a little money, brought to them 
by the compassionate peasants ; the guard winked at this 
proceeding, which took place at each successive village on 
to the very outskirts of civilization — while he, Bagrianof — 
was obliged to endure the haughty, reproachful airs of 
these petty officials about him ! 

Through his mind passed a succession of unpleasant 
recollections connected with this whole occurrence : the 
discourteous remarks of the governor-general, the rebuffs 
of the Stanovoi, the mortifying isolation at the inn in 
town, and finally the determined position of the priest, 
who had braved him with such insolence in public. Each 
time that he thought of this man he saw him with his 




sav£li’s expiation. 63 

arras outstretched in blessings over the criminals, and his 
indignation was boundless. 

Of all who had offended him the priest alone was in his 
power; it was only he whom he could punish, consequently 
he condensed all his anger upon him. Since his arrival 
in the village had not the insolent fellow avoided, as far 
as lay in his power, any acceptance of the hospitality of 
the manorial house? When he had been invited to read 
prayers and bless the collected family, had he ever re- 
mained to dine? The former priest, an old man with 
scanty intelligence and less energy, had kept his eyes shut 
to all that he was not wanted to see ; was not the Seigneur 
master there ? and what he might choose to do was none 
of the parish priest’s business. This good man being dead, 
there had been sent to Bagrianof this youth, who had just 
left the Ecclesiastical Seminary, had been married scarce 
a year, and was totally ignorant of the manners and cus- 
toms of the superior classes. Stop { was he so ignorant 
as he appeared? Might it not be that he knew very well 
that the priest was expected to be the familiar, acquiescent 
friend of the Seigneurial mansion, expected to be gratified 
by every invitation, ready and willing to do anything 
desired by the master; and above all, was he expected to 
inculcate by word and act the most absolute obedience to 
the lord of the estate, which in his eyes should represent 
Providence on earth ? 

But, voluntary or not, this ignorance was none the less 
a crime in itself. Furthermore, instead of endeavoring 
by an excess of politeness to earn forgetfulness for his 


64 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


omissions, this extraordinary priest saw fit to pity his 
flock, to bless them, in extremis , as if God would allow 
His blessing to fall on the heads of people who had wished 
to kill their master! 

The certainty, however, of being able to punish this 
priest whenever he pleased, somewhat abated his indigna- 
tion. In order to enjoy this pleasure to its fullest extent, 
he resolved to strike him not immediately on the warning 
he had given, but just at the moment when the storm 
seemed fairly over — when his anger, carefully hidden, 
would have left but a dim recollection of a vague threat. 
He, therefore, wrote his complaint in due form to the 
archbishop, copied it carefully in his most beautiful 
writing, sealed it with his coat-of-arms, and placed it in 
his desk, ready to despatch it when he was quite ready. 

This affair settled, Bagrianoffs heart felt lighter. There 
were left still those of the peasants who had ventured to 
show their pity for the exiles. For a few moments he 
thought of selling all the young girls together, but he 
remembered that there would be difficulty in finding a 
purchaser. 

One grand consolation remained : thanks to the gracious 
law which allowed him to designate which of his peasants 
should be taken to swell the number of soldiers offered by 
his generous self to his country, he had it in his power 
to make desolate such families as he pleased. This 
agreeable contemplation occupied his mind for two entire 
months. 

He selected at his leisure therefore a dozen of the 


S AV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


65 


handsomest young fellows on his estate as recruits, to be for 
the rest of their lives clothed and fed at the expense of the 
government. “ I owe the state this compensation!” he 
said, with a most amiable smile. 

When this design of Bagrianof became known, the rage 
of the village passed all bounds. What! not content 
with breaking his oath — with insulting the name of the 
Blessed Saviour by which he had sworn — with giving 
over the innocent to punishment as well as the guilty 
ones, who had spared his life, he now meant to strike 
again at the same families, to carry off the son where he 
had already robbed them of the father, to take the 
young, vigorous lad where the eldest had been sent to 
Siberia! He wished, then, for general ruin, for death and 
destruction ! 

The first time that Bagrianof appeared at church after 
the promulgation of this intention, he was very much 
struck by the general air of his peasantry. Up to this 
time, with bowed heads and eyes fixed upon the 
ground, they had prostrated themselves before him with 
the most perfect submission. But on this day he met more 
than one pair of eyes fixed upon him, with a mute and 
sullen questioning in their depths. Some among them 
too seemed to threaten him. 

From his place near the tabernacle, which was raised 
considerably above the others, he examined at his ease the 
surging mass, who watched him, too, as they followed the 
prayers. His fierce eyes caught the gleam of other eyes as 
fierce as his own. And yet they were interrogative withal. 
4 


66 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


“How long,” they seemed to say, “how long will you 
thus trifle with human souls?” 

“They need an example !” said Bagrianof to himself. 
“They feel the bit and kick against the prick. We will 
let them find out that they are not the strongest.” 

Prayers were over ; he waited until the crowd dispersed, 
and then slowly went through the church, putting out here 
and there the little wax candles in front of the Holy 
Images, or straightening a taller one that was somewhat out 
of the perpendicular, and finally went out with the priest, 
who had vainly sought to avoid the meeting. 

Bagrianof, however, seemed to have totally forgotten his 
former displeasure. Three months had elapsed since the 
admonition addressed to the young priest, and these three 
months seemed to have raised between him and his old 
wrongs a bank of snow as deep as those which now covered 
the ground. 

The Seigneur asked the young priest for news of his 
wife, who was very ill; then he interrogated him in regard 
to the sacerdotal ornaments and vestures, of which some 
began to show mark of wear. In this way he had all the 
conversation to himself, for he received only monosyllables 
in reply ; and, thus talking, they reached the Square, where 
the peasants usually lingered for a little gossip before they 
entered their homes. 

At his approach they lifted their caps. Bagrianof stood 
a good two minutes looking at them, as the cold north 
wind whistled around their uncovered ears. 

The cold was fearful ; the terrible January frosts, those 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


67 


which are called in Russia the Epiphany frosts, had come 
with intense severity. The shining snow crackled under 
their feet, white smoke arose in clouds above the low 
black cabins, and the Seigneur, wrapped in his warm 
pelisse, and his head protected by a Zibelline cap, contem- 
plated in sarcastic silence the poor creatures whose cheeks 
and ears were purple with the cold. 

Then again he met the same glances Avhich had so sur- 
prised him in the church. Some of his live-stock, it 
seemed, had eyes capable of human expression, and this 
expression was not altogether satisfactory to him. He 
quietly made a mental memorandum of these individuals. 

As he hastily examined his flock with these thoughts, 
he saw a young man leave the group with a careless shrug 
of his shoulders and a disdainful motion of the fingers of 
the right hand. After having gone a few steps in the 
direction of his home, the young peasant replaced his fur 
cap and continued his way, with long, manly strides. 

“ Saveli ! Ha ! SavSli ! ” cried Bagrianof, in his loud, 
rinsing tones. 

The young man went on, without seeming to hear. 

“ Saveli ! ” repeated the Seigneur, in a voice of thunder. 

“What will you have?” replied the young man, in the 
same tone, without lifting his hat. 

“Come here,” replied his master, in a gentle, kindly 
voice. 

The young man returned upon his steps and stood before 
Bagrianof. 

“ Why did you go away ? ” asked his master. 


. 


/ 


68 SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 

“ Because I was cold,” replied the young rebel. 

“ You had no business to be cold when I was about to 
speak,” said the Seigneur, angrily. 

“ You were saying nothing. I did not know that you 
intended to open your lips.” 

“ Whether I intend to do so or no, it strikes me that it 
would be as well for you to wait and find out. Do you 
not think so ? ” 

“ So it seems,” answered the young man, “ as I am still 
waiting.” 

Bagrianof ’s eyes emitted a baleful fire from under their 
half-closed lids. 

“A soldier ! ” he said, as he shook his forefinger in the 
face of the insubordinate youth. 

Saveli lifted his head haughtily, and looked at his 
master as he answered : 

“No, my lord, you will not do that.” 

“And why not, Master Sav6li ? ” 

“ Because it would be an injustice. My father is dead, 
my elder brother has already been taken for the army, my 
younger one you have sent to Siberia, and there are only 
women left of our family. Oh, no, my lord, you could not 
do that ! ” 

“A soldier ! ” repeated Bagrianof, as he again shook his 
forefinger, which whistled through the freezing air like a 
knife-blade. 

“ Listen ! all of you,” he continued, turning toward the 
group, from whence came sullen murmurs. “ What I do to 
this fellow, because he is insolent and rebellious, I will do 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


69 


to all of the rest of you if you give me any more trouble. 
Yes, you will all be sent away, old and young, if you dare 
to utter one single murmur or complaint. I do not wish 
to hear any more talk about your souls. I do not want 
any more souls in my village. I prefer to have peasants. 
I intend to make an example of this fellow.” And he 
pointed to Saveli, who, with a haughty, impassible coun- 
tenance, stood silently by his side. “And I will make such 
an example of all of you that, throughout the whole of 
Russia, people shall speak of Bagrianovka as of a village 
whose Seigneur knew how to put down rebellion ! ” 

Having said this, he turned toward the priest, who 
listened to what had taken place without allowing his 
secret thoughts to make themselves visible on his face. 

“ Come and dine with us, father,” he said, amiably. 

“I cannot, my lord; my wife is ill and needs me. 
Pray, accept my thanks, and excuse me.” 

“Ah ! Very good. And your wife, when does she 
expect to be confined ? ” 

“Any day now, my lord.” 

“Very good. Take care of yourself. My regards to 
your wife. Au revoir, my children.” 

And dropping these careless, kindly words to the 
mournful, bare-headed crowd, he turned toward his own 
dwelling with an alert, cheerful step. When he had 
turned the corner, the peasants assumed their caps once 
more. 

“Ah, brother!” said the starchina to Saveli, “you have 
made a bad piece of business of it.” 


70 SAV£Ll\s EXPIATION. 

“I shall not go!” replied the young man, calmly. 

“ What ! you will not go?” 

“I shall not go!” he repeated, with the same calmness. 

At this moment a pretty girl of sixteen — a child almost 
— appeared at a cabin door, hesitated a moment, and then 
ran swiftly toward the group; other women followed her, 
but with less rapidity, and mingled with the men. 

“ Fear nothing, Fedotia,” said Saveli to the girl, who 
looked at him with tearful eyes. “ He threatened to send 
me into the army, but be tranquil.” 

Fedotia raised her arms to heaven, and then hid her 
face in her hands and began to weep bitterly, swinging 
her body from right to left. This swaying movement, 
characteristic of great grief among the Russian peasantry, 
was in her indescribably graceful; her slender young 
form bent like a reed, while her arms were crossed over 
her breast as if to protect her from some threatening 
peril. 

Sav6li put one arm around her. 

“ Fear nothing; you are my fiancee; you shall be my 
wife, whether he be willing or no; and I tell you I will 
not go! The czar is just; and if it is necessary, I will 
appeal to the czar. He is our father, and he will never 
allow an offence against his subjects. And as for you all, 
you others, do not be in such despair. Do you not know 
that the czar is our father?” 

“ Certainly,” said the peasants, in tones of relief. 

“ Very well then, we will go to him; he will not aban- 
don us. Do not weep, child,” he said, turning to Fddotia, 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


71 


who was still sobbing upon his breast. “Come to my 
mother. I tell you that I will not be a soldier !” 

The group dispersed. The priest watched Saveli and 
Fedotia until they disappeared in a distant cabin; then 
he returned to his own dwelling with a very sore and 
anxious heart. 

Must his poor wife have the additional shock and 
horror of witnessing a rebellion in the village ? 


72 


sav£li’s expiation. 


CHAPTER VII. 

POOR LITTLE FiJDOTIA. 

S AVELI’S isba was rapidly crowded. It was an 
unusually roomy cabin ; the w r alls, darkened by 
the smoke of years, had all around them benches of wood 
polished by long use. 

A lamp burned before the consecrated Images, which 
occupied the corner of distinction. Seated a little above 
his guests as the head of his family, Saveli welcomed them 
with the cheerful voice and quiet assurance of former days. 
No one would have suspected that with one word from 
his master his fate and future had been totally changed 
within the last half hour. 

The women, however, by no means shared his serenity; 
they were gathered around F6dotia, who, engaged to the 
young man only within the past few weeks, was about to 
be married. They were only waiting for the Seigneur’s 
consent; in regard to this, however, they anticipated no 
difficulty, as Bagrianof approved of early marriages and 
large families. In spite of this predilection on his part, 
his people were so miserable, and had such a hard struggle 
for subsistence, that not one in four of their children 
lived to grow up; but their master was none the less 
pleased with each new couple who came to ask his 
consent. 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


73 


Now, however, all this was changed. SavSli, as a sol- 
dier, could, of course, take away his wife; there was no 
objection to that. Soldiers’ wives do not dislike that kind 
of life, as a rule, either. But now that Sav6li had offended 
him, would Bagrianof permit the marriage? It was more 
than doubtful, and the poor girl was in despair, for she 
loved her hanc6 w 7 ith all the strength of her ignorant, 
artless nature. 

The young man took little notice of these fears. He 
had decided on his course, for from his childhood he had 
always hated Bagrianof. He had not been able to con- 
tain himself when he saw the Seigneur expose his com- 
panions and himself with such ill feeling and insulting 
irony to the icy winds, but his hatred and contempt were 
as old as he W'as himself. Since his father’s death, and 
even before, he had more than once seen the resentment 
of the Seigneur, aroused by some trifling occurrence — so 
trifling that it w r as forgotten — explode upon his household 
and strike one after another the bread-winners of his 
family. 

On one of his excursions to the city, where he went 
several times each year to lay in stores for his family, he 
had met a peddler, belonging in a village not very far off. 
This man, who was born on the territory of the crown, 
was much more liberal in opinion and manners than the 
serfs belonging to individuals. For some time, in fact, 
the state had permitted a semi-freedom to those peasants 
who were born and raised in its domains. This peasant 
had communicated his liberal opinions to Saveli, who w*as 


74 


sav£li’s expiation. 


already goaded to exasperation by the incessant tyranny 
of Bagrianof. 

“ When you have had enough of it all, brother/ 7 said 
the peddler one fine day, “and when you wish to escape, 
come and find me; I will give you an asylum, and will 
not betray you. 77 

“ Yes, 77 said Saveli; ".and the next day the police will 
be on my track, and I shall be found under your roof! 
You will be ruined and thrown into prison for having 
succored me. I can see the master now, and his pleasure 
in trapping me ! 77 

“ Yo, 77 said the peddler, in a low voice. “ My brother, 
who went with me to the fair at Nijini-Yovgorod, died 
down there. The authorities forget to ask me for his pass- 
port; what good to them was the passport of a man who 
was then six feet under ground ! But I thought that the 
time might come when it would be useful; and this 
passport I still have. When you want it, come and get it. 
I love you, and like your spirit; and I hate the Seig- 
neurs ! 77 

Saveli had thought much of this confidence ; he knew 
the peddler to be a man of his word — smart enough to 
deceive a Jew, and to sell at a fabulous price worth- 
less merchandise to any Seigneur whom he found fool 
enough to buy it, and yet incapable of robbing a brother 
peasant of one penny. When, therefore, he had so calmly 
said, “ I will not be a soldier, 77 he had thought of the 
friendly peddler, Antoine Philippitch. But F6dotia, 
would she be willing to wait until a merciful Providence 
disembarrassed them of Bagrianof? 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


75 


Meanwhile, Saveli was very calm. To his soul, filled 
to the brim with hatred and contempt, this last injustice 
brought a great calm. Placed now in an unforeseen posi- 
tion, he looked about him and weighed and measured every 
circumstance, that he might attach to each their just value. 
The men of the village, and particularly the new conscripts, 
were gathered around him. They j>itied him much, and 
blamed him more. 

“ You had no business to provoke him !” they exclaimed. 
“Now that the wolf has shown his teeth, who knows which 
one of us he will take it into his head to devour next?” 

Saveli fully appreciated the justice of this reproach; but 
the indignation he had felt at the time returned to him 
again, with the remembrance of the scene of the morning. 

“ You are right,” he said at last, as he rose from his 
chair. “You are right, but I could not help it; and if it 
were all to be done over again, I should do just the same, 
I am certain.” 

At this moment, FSdotia’s father entered. He was a 
tall, well-developed peasant, still vigorous and youthful in 
appearance. He leaned upon a stout wooden stick, more 
from habit than necessity. At liis entrance, every eye was 
turned upon him ; he went at once to his daughter. 

“What are you doing here?” he said to her. “Go 
home. You can never be a soldier’s wife. I will not 
part with my last child. Say farewell to Saveli ; he is no 
longer your betrothed.” 

F6dotia raised her soft blue eyes, filled with tears, to her 
father’s stern face, and prostrated herself before him. 


76 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


“ Oh, father ! ” she cried, “ my dear, good father ! order 
me to die, but not to give Saveli up ! ” 

The old man was about to reply, when Sav6li himself 
thrust aside the lookers-on, and knelt at the girl’s side. 

“ I6r6me'i Antipof, you gave her to me,” he said, im- 
ploringly ; “ you cannot take her back again ! I have 
your blessing ; you cannot withdraw it ! Bless your 
children once again ! ” 

The betrothed pair touched the ground with their fore- 
heads three times ; then they rose to their feet, and stood 
before the father. 

u I gave my daughter to a peasant lad ; I did not give 
her to a soldier,” answered the old man. 

“ I will not be a soldier. I swear to you before God 
and all the saints that I will not be a soldier. Only give 
me your daughter!” The old man shook his head. 
"Well, then,” resumed Saveli, who had grown very pale, 
“ wait, at least, before you forbid her to speak to me, until 
the Seigneur carries out his threat. I promise you to give 
her up myself, if I am ever a soldier. Wait until then, 
I beg of you — -just see how she cries !” 

And in truth poor little Fedotia was weeping bitterly 
enough. The long braid of thick hair turned up once 
and bound with a wide ribbon, as is the habit of the 
young peasant-girls, lay on her shoulders, and now moved 
and quivered like a living thing, with the violence of the 
child’s sobs. 

“ So be it, then,” replied I6r6mei. “ But if you should 
become a soldier, remember that you will never have her!” 


sav£li’s expiation. 


77 


“Agreed!” answered Saveli. “Father, we thank you.” 
And the betrothed, taking the hands of each other, again 
prostrated themselves ; but this time a faint, pale joy had 
crept to life in their sad hearts. 

Saveli’s manner had attracted the attention of all about 
him. 

“ He seems sure of what he says ! ” said one. 

“ Perhaps he has money enough to buy himself otf ! ” 
said another. 

“ It is witchcraft ! ” murmured several more, in subdued 
voices. 

Ah ! if witchcraft would have killed their master, what 
enormous price would they not have paid any sorcerer who 
would have sold them the necessary charm? The hour 
grew late, the fires were out in the cabins, and the men 
stretched themselves on the still warm stoves. Cold 
is the only misery unknown to the Russian peasant. 
However poor he may be, or however devastated his 
village by famine — even where it has been by no means 
uncommon to find the peasants dead of starvation in their 
cabins — fuel has never failed them, and the stove never 
ceased to impart the warmth of spring to their homes. 

The village was buried in slumber, but Saveli slept not. 
His brain seethed with the events of the day, and he 
deliberated not only on his plan of escape, but on an- 
other plan, which he had communicated to no one. And 
this last became so persistent, and crushed every other idea 
so entirely, that the young peasant sprang to the floor, put 
on his pelisse and fur cap, and stole from the cabin. He 


78 


sav£li’s expiation. 


soon reached Ieremei’s house, and went to a window which 
was very low, and where F6dotia usually sat all the day 
long, bending over the marvellous embroidery which she 
was putting on some towels in preparation for her marriage. 

Sav§li tapped softly on the glass. At the second tap, 
the little sash was softly raised, and F6dotia’s pretty head 
appeared. She had not been asleep either ; she knew that 
no one but her betrothed would come at that hour, and, in 
fact, she was expecting him. 

“F&lotia,” said the young man, standing on tip-toe, that 
he might speak into the girl’s very ear, “ I have something 
to say to you.” 

“ Say it, then, my beloved Saveli.” 

“ Will you go with me? I will marry you, I swear it 
before God ! ” and the young man made the sign of the 
cross ; “ but you must go with me secretly this very night, 
so that I shall not be made a soldier of. Say, will you?” 

“ Oh, Saveli, ask me anything but that!” said the young 
girl, much startled. “To go away, and leave my father! 
He would refuse me his blessing upon his death-bed! He 
would say that I was a bad, wicked girl! No, Saveli, 
ask me to die for you, but not to leave his house! No, I 
cannot! I cannot!” she repeated, with a sigh. 

“Very well !” answered the young man, without much 
apparent surprise. “I knew very well that you would 
not consent. It would have been a good thing, though, 
and I really do not see any other way.” 

“What shall we do, then?” said F&lotia, whose heart 
throbbed with anguish. She drew in her head and listened. 


■ - 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 79 

Everybody was soundly sleeping. The pretty blonde head, 
scarcely covered with a handkerchief, again reappeared. 

“ I cannot tell,” replied Saveli, gravely shaking his 
head. “ But I shall find some way.” 

“ Suppose some one should go to the Seigneur?” said 
Fedotia, timidly. 

“ It would be time and trouble thrown away,” answered 
Saveli, disdainfully. “ Besides, he was never known to 
do a favor to any one. Only a miracle would move him. 
No! some oilier way must be found. Good-night! Give 
me one kiss.” 

The young girl leaned out of the window, and the lips 
of the betrothed met. 

“ Good.- night ! ” repeated Saveli, and he turned back to 
his isba. 

Fedotia watched him as he went. His manly form and 
determined stride were thrown out upon the whiteness of 
the snow. The poor little girl\s heart swelled with ten- 
derness for the lover so nearly torn from her arms. 

“A miracle ! ” she repeated, as she closed the window 
with a shiver. “He said that a miracle only could touch 
the Seigneur’s heart. O Saviour of the world ! O mother 
of God ! protect me, inspire me ! A miracle ! Ah ! if God 
would but perform one ! ” 

She fell asleep. In her agitated dreams she passed 
through a hundred different scenes. Toward morning it 
seemed to her that a voice whispered in her ear : “ Go you, 
and find Bagrianof.” 

She woke with a start and looked around her. All was 


80 


S AY £ L^S EXPIATION. 


quiet. The lamp before the Images burned but feebly. 
She rose and threw herself before the shrine, and prayed 
with her whole soul to the Virgin. She prayed for a long 
time. Her heart whispered to her, repeated to her, over 
and over again — “ Go you, and find Bagrianof ! ” 

“ It is a voice from heaven,” she said, at last, to herself ; 
“ and it would be a sin not to obey it. I will see this 
terrible Seigneur myself. I will say nothing to any one; 
they would all hinder me. And if he should refuse ? ” 
she thought, with a deadly sinking of her heart. “ But,” 
she resumed, brightening up again, “if he does, it will all 
be the same as it was yesterday ; and then Saveli will find 
some way, because he said he would.” 

Much comforted and strengthened by this resolution to 
which she had thus arrived, she slept so soundly that her 
father was obliged to summon her at daybreak to go for 
water for the samovar. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

“tuen back! innocent dove, turn back!” 



IHE broad, deep river was covered with ice and snow. 


-L The low banks, sparsely wooded, were all one dead 
level under their white winding-sheet. The tow-path on 
the side was covered with ice, but it was, nevertheless, 
easier to obtain water for domestic purposes from the river 
than to toil through the ever drifting snow to the wells in 
the next village. When Fedotia — bearing on her shoulders 
the wooden hoop which balanced the two buckets — reached 
the river side, she saw a group of peasants at work cutting 
blocks of ice. 

“ What on earth are you doing?” she asked, in aston- 
ishment. 

“The Seigneur used so much ice last summer that the 
ice-house is empty,” answered one of the men, in a sulky 
voice ; “ and consequently we are sent here to freeze 
to-day.” And as he spoke he struck the ice a blow with 
his pickaxe which would have felled an ox. 

Fedotia watched the huge block of ice, clear as crystal, 
which two men were sliding upon a hurdle. A smart cut 
with a whip sent the horse at a rapid pace toward the 
manorial dwelling. 

In the place where the block of ice had been, was now a 
deep basin of clear, blue water. 


5 


82 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


The rising sun touched with its oblique rays the oppo- 
site bank, where every shrub and twig was an icicle, and 
now glowing with light and fire. 

“How beautiful!” said F6dotia, involuntarily. 

Her heart was full of hope ; with so fair a sky, and 
with such a glorious sun, who could be hard-hearted 
enough to refuse her supplications ? 

“ Beautiful! Yes, I suppose so! to look at out of a 
window ! Go home, my pretty girl,” said an old peasant, 
as he finished loosening a new block which still further 
enlarged the basin. “Go home, or Saveli will complain 
of the frost biting the cheeks of his betrothed ! ” 

The old man smiled and winked at F6dotia. She was 
the joy and the pride of the whole village. When she was 
a wee thing, her pretty, dainty ways had made her a uni- 
versal pet ; and as she grew up her beauty had made her 
as precious as a rare pearl to these rough, hard-working 
people. The fierce dogs followed her about, happy if they 
were allowed to put their damp muzzles into her slender 
brown hands. She was the one ray of sunshine in this 
dreary corner of the world. 

The young girl colored, hastily filled her buckets, and 
then hastened homeward with a measured step which 
spilled scarcely a drop of water from the vessels filled 
almost to the brim. She went swiftly along, hardly feeling 
the weight she carried. 

As she passed the garden hedge she saw Bagrianof, 
who was taking a little exercise to give him an appetite 
for' his breakfast. This meeting seemed to the child a 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


83 




good omen ; instead of slackening her pace, therefore, 
until he was out of sight, she continued to move on with 
the same light step, her slender figure thrown slightly 
forward ; and the undulations of her hips were scarce con- 
cealed by the wadded garment she wore. The grace of her 
movements was really remarkable, and reminded one of a 
swaying lily in the fields. 

At the sound of her foot-fall on the frozen snow, Ba£- 
rianof turned. As she passed him she bent her head 
slightly, with a musical “ Good-morning.” She went on 
her way inwardly rejoicing, while wondering at her own 
audacity : but she wished to propitiate the master on whom 
so much depended. Bagrianof watched her the whole 
length of the garden hedge. 

“She is quite grown up,” he said to himself ; “and a 
very pretty girl she is, too ! ” 

The morning seemed endless to Fedotia. This meeting 
with the Seigneur was the last of a series of happy omens, 
and determined her to accomplish without delay the project 
she had formed the night before. When the noon-day 
meal was over, therefore, the pots and wooden spoons care- 
fully washed and restored to their places, and old Ieremei 
gone out again, the little girl found herself at liberty to do 
what she pleased. She took then from a little box her comb 
and her Sunday kerchief ; she arranged her hair with great 
care, tied her kerchief under her chin, crossed her quilted 
jacket over her breast, put on shoes instead of the low 
slippers she habitually wore, and went out with her heart 
fluttering like a timid bird about to take wing. 


84 


sav£li’s expiation. 


“ Where are you going, Fedotia ? ” cried the first peasant 
she met. “ Your Saveli is not there. Fie is at the other 
end of the village — at Procofi’s, where they are beating 
flax.” 

“ I am not looking for Saveli,” replied the girl. 

“Where are you going, then, all dressed so fine?” 

“ To attend to important business ! ” said Fedotia, with 
an air of triumph, and she began to run with a merry 
laugh. 

But as she entered the court-yard of the Seigneur’s house, 
she was suddenly chilled with a strange fear. The dogs 
gathered around her, and the child was sorely tempted to 
retreat, but a man-servant was looking at her from the 
kitchen-door. 

" Can I see the master ? ” she said to this servant as she 
approached him. 

He was an old man with a discontented air. Born 
under his master’s roof, he had become accustomed to most 
things, and yet Bagrianof ’s yoke seemed to him sometimes 
insufferably heavy. “ My dead master was not a very 
good man,” he would say sometimes to his brothers in 
misfortune ; “ but he was much better than his son. I 
know no one as wicked as he,” he added, with a sigh. 
“ Fie is worse than a demon ! ” 

At the young girl’s question, old Timothy shook his 
head sadly enough. Many young girls had come to that 
door, but never without being summoned ; but this girl 
had not been sent for. How times had changed ! Mod- 
esty had departed this world, then, with decency! 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


85 


“ Yes,” he answered, “ you can go in.” 

“ But please ask him ! ” 

u What is the good ? A pretty girl is welcome there. 
Go in the door on the right ; that is his dressing-room. 
Go on, ma belle ! ” 

Fedotia looked at the old man with her sweet blue eyes 
opened wide in wonder. The innocence of her sixteen 
years was so unmistakably to be read in their blue depths 
that Timothy saw his mistake. 

“ What do you want of the master ? ” he said, in a 
softened tone. 

“ I want to ask him to have compassion on Sav6li, and 
not to send him off to the army ; he is my betrothed ; we 
are to be married at Easter, if the Seigneur permits.” 

“And you expect to obtain mercy from him ! Turn 
back ! innocent dove, turn back ! Go not through that 
door, my child.” 

“ But it was the voice of God which sent me here,” 
said Fedotia, her sweet voice trembling, and her innocent 
blue eyes misty with unshed tears. “ Last night an angel 
came to me in my dreams and said to me, ‘Go and find 
Bagrianof/ I fell on my knees, and again I heard the 
same voice. May the Holy Virgin aid me!” 

The girl made a sign of the cross, and her smile was 
full of trusting faith as she looked into the sad eyes of the 
old servant, who was moved to the very depths of his 
cast-iron heart. 

“Go away, dear child,” he said; “your guardian angel 
would be displeased to see you cross this threshold,” and 


86 


SAVflLl’s EXPIATION. 


the man laid his hand on the girl’s shoulder. “ Say ! does 
Sav6li know that you were coming to see the master?” 

“ Oh, no, he knows nothing about it !” 

“Very well, then; go ask his advice, and if he gives 
his consent I will make no objection. Now, go away!” 

His hard hand pushed the young girl gently toward the 
gate. 

With a troubled heart and eyes filled with tears, F6dotia 
went a step or two, then hesitated, unwilling to desert the 
house wherein possibly Saveli’s pardon might be obtained. 
At this moment Bagrianof appeared at his dressing-room 
window, and beckoned her to approach. 

“The Seigneur is calling tome!” she exclaimed joy- 
ously to the old servant ; “ I must go and speak to him.” 

She passed him, running lightly, her feet scarce touch- 
ing the earth. She sprang up the six steps of the broad 
porch, and entered the house. 

Timothy made with the fingers of his right hand that 
indescribable Russian gesture, which signifies discourage- 
ment, weariness and indifference, and returned to the 
kitchen very much disturbed. 

“ Such a pretty girl ! ” he grumbled between his teeth, 
“ and so young — a mere baby ! But stupid, very stupid ! ” 

On reaching the vestibule Fedotia stood for a moment, 
puzzled and uncertain where to go. The waxed and 
shining floor, polished swords and fire-arms fastened against 
the walls, a huge mirror which reflected her figure from 
head to foot, and made her fancy that another person was 
coming to meet her — all these things, in short, were so 




SAY ^ Li’s EXPIATION. 


87 


entirely new to her, that they inspired her with a sort of 
terror. She turned, and her hand was on the latch ready 
to fly, when Bagrianof looked out of his dressing-room. 

" Ah ! ” he said, “ where are you going ? Come in here.” 

He opened the door still further. 

“ Do you want anything? What were you saying to 
Timothy?” 

“ I was asking if I might see you.” 

"Well, you find you can,” answered the Seigneur, 
blandly ; “and pray, what answer did he give you?” 

“ He said — that I had much better go home!” 

“ Much better go home, indeed ! ” replied Bagrianof, 
grimly; and then added, with a smile: “But what do 
you want of me?” 

“I want — Oh, master, pray pardon Saveli, and I 
will bless you to the end of my days ! ” cried little 
Fedotia, with a sob, at the same time throwing herself at 
the Seigneur’s feet, and touching the ground three times 
with her brow. 

“Saveli? Sav41i? Is he the hound who answered me 
so insolently yesterday in the presence of the whole 
village?” 

“Yes, master, that was Saveli. But he will never — no, 
never do the same thing again ! ” exclaimed the girl, 
eagerly. “ Forgive him ; do not send him off to the army. 
It would kill me, master. You do not wish to kill a poor 
child who has never done you any harm ! ” 

“You love him then very much ? ” asked Bagrianof 
gravely. 


88 


sav£li ? s expiation. 


“ Yes, he is my betrothed. We want you to let us be 
married after Lent. Ah, Seigneur ! be merciful to Saveli, 
and we can be married at Easter.” 

“ Did lie send you to me ? ” 

“ Oh, no ! he did not know that I was coming.” 

“Ah ! this is quite interesting; but tell me why do you 
expect me to pardon your betrothed? I have no great 
reasons for liking him.” 

F6dotia had no reply to make. She hesitated a moment; 
then, not being able to think of anything else, she returned 
to her first idea. 

“We will bless you to the end of our days!” she 
repeated, with clasped hands. 

“ I am inclined to forgive him,” said Bagrianof, with a 
wicked look ; “ but it is too cold to talk out here. Come 
in this room.” 

He bade her precede him into his dressing-room, as he 
called the large apartment, opening on the lawn by two 
long windows. The mahogany furniture was black with 
age, and was covered with dark green leather. A broad 
divan filled one corner of the room. A table in the centre 
was covered with newspapers. Bagrianof read much, and 
quite piqued himself on the liberality of his opinions in all 
that concerned the destiny of empires. He closed the 
door. Fedotia stood in the centre of the room, anxious 
and embarrassed. 

“Listen!” he said, as he took both her hands in his 
firm grasp. “You think a great deal about Saveli? 
You love him very much? You are very anxious to 
obtain forgiveness for him ? ” 


“ Yes, Seigneur, more anxious than for anything in the 
world.” 

“ Very well ; you shall have it ! ” 

Fedotia, transported with joy, flung herself at Bagri- 
anof’s feet, laughing and crying as she kissed his gar- 
ments. 

“Do not kiss my feet,” continued Bagrianof ; “it is 
throwing your kisses away. Your Saveli shall not be 
sent to the army. But you must say ‘ thank you/” 

“ May the good Lord cover you with blessings ! ” began 
the young girl, ready to pour out the protestations and 
phrases of which the Russian peasants are by no means 
sparing. 

“ That is not what I mean. Come, now, be good and 
don’t make too much noise ! ” 

He took her in his arms ; and as she felt herself lifted 
from the ground, Fedotia uttered a piercing shriek. 

“ If you scream, I will put you out doors, and send 
Sav6li to Siberia,” said the Seigneur, sternly. “ Do you 
understand ? Not one word ! ” 

And Fedotia did not speak again. 


90 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


CHAPTER IX. 


bageianof’s kerchief. 


W HEX the child left Bagrianof’s dressing-room she 
was as white as the snowdrifts outside, and 
moved like an automaton. 

“ Wait/’ said Bagrianof, as he was about to open the 
door. “ Wait, I will give you a kerchief.” 

He took one from a wardrobe, unfolded it, and laid it 
across the arm of the young peasant, who was still and 
silent as death. 

“Adieu, F6dotia,” he said, with a careless wave of his 
hand as he closed the door of his dressing-room. 

The young girl, standing alone in the vestibule, 
shuddered from head to foot. With a strange, mechanical 
movement she went down the steps and took the road to 
the village, absorbed in thought, and with the gay- 
colored kerchief still hanging on her arm. As she reached 
the cross-road she met a group of young men who had 
just left the isba , where they had been beating flax. 
Up to that moment she had seen nothing, but had walked 
on with her hands loosely folded, and her head bowed 
upon her breast. Suddenly, she lifted her eyes, and saw 
those of her lover fixed upon the kerchief hanging on her 
arm. She uttered a sharp cry of agony and started back, 
extending her hands as if to protect herself. 


S A Li’s EXPIATION. 


91 


“Who gave you that?” said Sav6li, in a voice of 
thunder. 

“ Do not touch me ! do not touch me ! ” she exclaimed 
in a voice of despair, drawing back from him still further. 

“ Where have you been ? ” cried the young man, mad 
with rage and pain. 

Fedotia looked at him for a moment; Saveli’s eyes 
were fierce with anger. She turned and flew like the 
wind down the road to the river. The young men 
— Sav6li in front — started in pursuit. 

“Fedotia! Fedotia!” but Saveli’s voice possibly 
never reached the girl’s ears. The wind was blowing it 
from her. She still flew on, so lightly that her feet did 
not leave a print on the snow; like an arrow she darted 
over the low bank and threw herself into the basin, into 
the blue waters of which she had looked that very 
morning. 

Saveli arrived just in time to clutch fruitlessly at the 
skirt of her dress ; the gay-colored kerchief lay on the 
icy edge. 

Without an instant’s hesitation the young man threw 
off his fur pelisse and heavy boots, and sprang into the 
water. He disappeared under the thin ice which had 
skimmed over the surface, and then rising to breathe went 
down once more. His companions had begun to think 
that they should never see him again, when he appeared, 
exhausted, but living. They pulled him out, and with 
him Fedotia, whom he held tightly clasped in his arms ; 
but her poor eyes would weep no more, nor would those 


92 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


marble cheeks pale again under insult and wrong! 
Saveli soon came to himself, and insisted on carrying the 
frail form of the dead girl to her home. The funeral 
procession was joined on the route by many peasants, and 
finally reached Ieremei’s cabin. 

“ Father!” said Saveli, laying the dead body of his 
betrothed on the low couch, “ here is your daughter. I 
am not to blame ! I could not protect her, but I swear 
to you that I will avenge her ! ” 




SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


93 


CHAPTER X. 


A RUSSIAN PRIEST. 



TIE village was soon in commotion. Ieremei, with 


tearless eyes and savage countenance, looked at his 
daughter in silence. Matrons gathered around Fedotia 
and did their best to restore her to life, but their efforts 
were of short duration ; for they soon found that they were 
hopeless. The girl was cold and stiff. The men left the 
cabin, that the last sad duties to the child they all loved 
might be performed. 

Not one word was spoken within the cabin or without. 
All the young people and children gathered around 
Ier6mei, who, seated on the wooden bench that ran around 
the exterior of the house, with his fur cap pulled down 
over his eyes, seemed absorbed in thoughts of vengeance. 

Somebody had taken Sav6li away to make him change 
his wet garments. The old man looked around as if he 
missed him, and one of the peasants hastened to explain 
the absence of the youth. I6r6mei signified that he 
understood, and relapsed into immovable silence. 

The weather had changed : a storm and night were rap- 
idly approaching. Lights appeared here and there among 
the cabins, and finally an aged woman came to the door 
of Ieremei’s desolated home, and invited the men to enter. 
The father was the first to cross the threshold. One by 


94 


savSli's expiation. 


one, with heads uncovered and bending slightly, that they 
might not strike the beams over the low door, the crowd 
passed in. 

Fedotia, clothed in her choicest raiment, lay on a long 
oak table in the centre of the room, her feet to the East, so 
that her face should be turned toward the rising sun, and 
toward the sky in which the Three Kings saw the star 
which led them. 

Her hair no longer fell in massive braids upon her 
shoulders, as was the custom with young, unmarried girls. 
The matrons had concealed it entirely with a fine kerchief 
carefully knotted about the head. The delicate hands had 
been clasped together, but not without difficulty, and were 
now tied with a ribbon; and a small crucifix was placed 
between them. The floor and the table were covered with 
evergreens brought hastily from the neighboring forest by 
the children. The lamp burning before the shrine shed 
over the whole scene a pale, flickering light. 

I6remei looked at his daughter; his reddened eyelids 
quivered, but his worn-out eyes refused to shed one tear. 

“Send for the priest,” he said. 

The peasants looked at each other. Russian priests go 
to the homes of their Seigneurs to recite the prayers for 
the dead, but peasants never ask them to come to their 
cabins, for these prayers must be paid for. 

“ Send for the priest,” repeated Ier^mei. 

No one moved. He looked about the crowded room. 

“ I will go myself,” he said ; and, taking his stick, he 
went out. 






sav£li’s expiation. 


95 


The night was extremely dark. The sky, low and gray, 
threatened a snow storm, while the wind came in fitful 
gusts. 

The old man hurried, with long, strong strides, toward 
the Rectory, in whose windows, as he could see while yet 
afar off, burned a bright light. 

At the door he met Saveli, who was just going in. 

“ Why are you here?” said the old man. 

“To ask the prayers of the priest for the martyr who is 
at rest,” answered Saveli. 

The old man went into the house without making any 
reply. 

The priest was seated by the bed of his sleeping wife. 
A small, red, and wrinkled face was seen amid the linen 
of a cradle at her side. A young servant, with a startled 
air, came in on tip-toe. 

“ Master,” she said, “ some peasants are here who wish 
to speak to you.” 

“ Who are they ?” answered Vladimir Andreitch, turn- 
ing toward her his worn face, still pale with the anxiety 
and suspense of the day. 

“ There has been an accident in the village,” said the 
servant. 

“Speak lower!” replied the priest, as he rose With evi- 
dent fatigue from his low chair. “ Remain here, near the 
child. Try and keep it from disturbing its mother while 
I am gone. Where are these people?” 

“ In the ante-room, master.” 

The priest went out and took the peasants into the 


96 


sav£li’s expiation. 


dining-room, which was but poorly furnished with a table, 
a sideboard, and a half-dozen straw-seated chairs. When 
he saw Saveli, he had a vague presentiment of the truth. 
The anxiety and fatigue of the day had kept him in 
ignorance of all that had happened in the village, but 
misfortunes seem to be wafted on the air sometimes, 
and the knowledge of them to come intuitively, as it 
were. 

“ What can I do for you ? ” asked the priest, gently. 

"We ask your prayers,” answered Ieremci. "My 
daughter lies dead in my house. A sin is on her soul, 
and your prayers must take it away.” 

“ Fedotia? ” 

“ Yes, F6dotia.” 

“ What sin could that pure white dove have committed 
before God took her to himself?” asked the priest, with a 
sick feeling at his heart, so certain was he of what he was 
about to hear. 

“ She killed herself! ” 

Ieremei looked the priest full in the face. 

“ You will say, perhaps, that you refuse to pray for her 
because she committed suicide. But you are a good man 
— a kind man — and you will not leave her sin on her 
soul ? What do you say ? ” 

As he uttered these words, Ier6mei’s stick shook in his 
hands, not with weakness, but with rage. 

“ Why and how did she kill herself?” asked the priest, 
without answering directly. 

“ I do not know. I know only that she was brought 


sav£li’s expiation. 


97 


to me dead, and that she herself did the deed. If you 
wish to know more, ask this man ; he will tell you.” 

Saveli stepped nearer the father. The light from a very 
poor candle was sufficient to show his pale, drawn features, 
and a look of age which was entirely new in that manly 
face. 

“ I left Procofi’s, where we had been beating flax. I 
was with all the others.” He named the peasants who 
accompanied him. “At the cross-roads I saw Fedotia 
coming down the road from the Seigneur’s house. She 
moved as if she was asleep. Her eyes were wide open, but 
she did not seem to see anything. Suddenly I perceived 
that she had on her arm a bright kerchief — you know, 
father, the kerchiefs I mean — those that Bagrianof gives 
to the girls — I felt as if I had received a tremendous 
blow, as if an ox was trampling my heart out. I called, 
and I think I said, 1 Where have you been?’ Fedotia 
screamed, and started back as if she was frightened, and 
then said, twice over, ‘ Do not touch me ! ’ Then I said 
again, ‘ Where have you been?’ She did not answer, but 
began to run down the path to the river. We all of ns 
followed her as soon as we could, but before we could 
overtake her she had jumped in. I jumped in after her, 
and pulled her out; but it was too late! ” Here the youth 
was choked by a mighty sob. 

“And what is your conclusion?” asked the priest, after 
a long, sad silence. 

“ My conclusion is, father, that the poor innocent went 
to Bagrianof to ask him to pardon me. And he, glad that 
6 


98 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


the lamb had come to him, devoured her like the wolf that 
he is.” 

.•‘Ah! well, father, what have you to say?” growled 
Ier6mei, striking the floor with his stout cane. “ What will 
you do? — I must have prayers.” 

“ My wife was confined this morning; but that makes 
no difference, I will go with you. Go on — I will over- 
take you. I will only stop at the church a few minutes.” 

The two peasants left the Rectory. After a few moments 
Ier&nei suddenly stopped. 

“ Was it you who advised her to go to the Seigneur?” 
he asked, in a low, constrained voice. 

“No, father, no! I swear before God that I knew 
nothing of it. She had spoken once of asking Bagrianof 
to pardon me, and I laughed at her, and told her that he 
never pardoned any one, and never would, unless some 
miracle took place.” 

“ This is the miracle, then — I am childless ! ” sighed the 
old man, as he resumed his weary walk. A moment later, 
he spoke again. “ It is fortunate for you that you did not 
send her, for I would have broken every bone in your 
body — and then broken his!” 

The priest entered the cabin shortly after the arrival of 
those who had gone to find him. He handed to one of the 
men the censer and the incense which is always used at fune- 
ral prayers and assumed the stole. He had not brought 
the Deacon with him, judging it useless to involve him in 
the disgrace and punishment which would unquestionably 
follow the fulfilment of this duty. 




sav£li’s expiation. 99 

The incense smoked upon the lighted charcoal, and the 
priest began his prayers. His rich, musical voice slowly 
recited the solemn verses. The peasant who swung the 
censer made the responses, all in the Slavonic dialect, as like 
Russ as the French of the fifteenth century is like the 
French spoken and written to-day. As he uttered the 
sacred words which speak of Life Eternal and the reception 
awaiting the pure in heart beyond the grave, the priest’s 
voice grew louder and clearer ; his eyes raised to heaven, 
looked beyond the low ceiling, blackened by the smoke of 
years, and saw the glorious blue sky set thick with stars, 
and the white soul of the martyred girl floating toward 
her blessed Saviour and Redeemer. With pious hands he 
wafted the incense over the body, and then, removing the 
stole, folded it with care, and placed it with the censer 
in a napkin, which he carefully tied together by the corners, 
and finally resumed his pelisse, and turned to depart. 

“ Thanks, kind father,” said Ieremei, kissing his hand. 

“ Thanks, father,” said Saveli also. “ When will you 
bury her ? ” 

“ Whenever you desire it, my children.” 

“Are you not afraid?” 

The priest looked around slowly. He looked at the 
fair young thing lying dead before him. He looked at the 
crowd of dark, appealing faces, dimly seen in the pale, 
quivering candle-light. 

“No,” he said, in a calm, resolute voice; “the servant 
of God fears neither the snares of the wicked nor the 
devices of the devil ! ” 


100 


sav£li\s expiation. 


“ Will you bury her then the day after to-morrow, in 
the morning, with masses? We will pay you whatever 
you say.” 

“ I do not want your money,” said the priest, who 
nevertheless thought as he spoke, of the destitution within 
his wall, and remembered how much his young wife needed 
nourishing food ; “ I will be ready whenever you summon 
me,” he continued. 

The peasantry slowly dispersed, and were soon under 
their own roofs. The next day, all the whole morning, 
the peasant women besieged Vladimir Andr6itch’s house. 
Notwithstanding their poverty they each carried something 
— two or three fresh eggs, a chicken, a little of last year’s 
honey, a bundle of wool, a couple of yards of linen, and 
even the poorest offered a little milk. Thus the village 
showed their gratitude to him who was running the risk 
of losing his daily bread by his support of their rights. 

The following morning, Bagrianof was drinking his tea 
quietly, and reading the weekly papers, when the first 
stroke of a bell made him start. His wife turned pale 
under the interrogative look of her lord and master. She 
knew all that had happened, and had trembled since the 
previous evening in expectation of this very moment. She 
made a sign, and her little girl noiselessly disappeared. More 
courageous, now that her child was safe from the impend- 
ing tempest, Madame Bagrianof awaited the question which 
could not be much longer delayed. 

“ Is it a fdte day ? ” asked her husband. “ What is the 
date?” 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 101 

“ The 22d,” she answered ; “ but it is no fete-day, Daniel 
Loukitch.” 

“ Why is there mass then?” 

“For an interment,” stammered the poor creature, 
shivering with dread. 

“So the dead man ordered masses for his soul, did he? 
Much good may they do him ! Well ! they can’t be so 
poor as they pretend — these good serfs of mine — if they 
can afford to pay for masses ! Which of my souls is it 
who has taken flight for his celestial home?” 

“It is not a soul, Daniel Loukitch,” replied Madame 
Bagrianof. “ It is a young girl.” 

It is necessary to explain here that at that time in 
Russia only men were called souls . As the women paid 
neither taxes nor rent, they were not enumerated in the 
population. 

“A young girl ! ” repeated Bagrianof, with an offended 
air. He always objected to the death of the young girls 
in his herd ; it was a clear loss, since they could marry 
and raise fine, stout children, who, if boys, were worthy to 
be called “ souls.” 

“Who is it?” he asked, with a lazy interest, due solely 
to his proprietorship. 

Madame Bagrianof gathered together all her strength. 
“ Fedotia Ieremeieva,” she answered, slowly. 

Her husband laid down his newspaper, and turned and 
looked at her. 

“You are a fool,” he said, coldly, “or you are mad! 
That girl was here the day before yesterday — how can she 


102 


sav£li’s expiation. 


be buried to-day ? Pray, tell me,” he added, with a sneer, 
as he resumed his newspaper, “ what did she die of?” 

Madame Bagrianof did not reply. Her husband laid 
down his paper and rang the bell furiously, which sum- 
mons speedily brought old Timothy into the room, on tip- 
toe. The sound of the bell was still heard, but now it 
was tolling, instead of ringing for mass. The funeral pro- 
cession must be nearing the church. 

“ Who are they burying?” asked Bagrianof, in a sharp, 
quick voice. 

“ Fedotia Ieremeieva, your honor,” answered the old 
servant. 

“ That girl who was here yesterday ? ” 

“ The same, your highness.” 

“ What did she die of?” 

Madame Bagrianof and Timothy exchanged glances. 

“ What did she die of? ” repeated Bagrianof, with com- 
pressed lips, indicative of a storm. 

“ She was drowned, my lord.” 

“ By accident ? ” 

There was no answer. 

“ Purposely ? ” 

Again a second silence— broken within only by the 
ticking of the clock, while outside the bell still tolled. 
Timothy raised his head, looked at his master, and then 
one word fell slowly from his lips. 

“ Purposely,” he said. 

Bagrianof dashed his newspapers aside, rose from his 
chair, made one or two turns up and down the room. His 


wife started to her feet, and stood stiff with terror, and 
uncertain what to do. He took her by the shoulder and 
reseated her roughly in her arm-chair. 

“Be quiet.!” he said, “you are always jumping round 
like a devil on springs ! ” 

Madame Bagrianof moved no more. 

“The fool ! ” muttered the Seigneur, between his close- 
shut teeth. 

The church bell was silent, the body was within its 
walls. 

Bagrianof took two or three more turns about the salon. 

“ What do they say about it in the village?” he asked, 
turning abruptly to Timothy. 

“I do not know, your highness. I never go to the 
village.” 

“ Very well ! Go now, then,” said the Seigneur, resum- 
ing his chair. “Give me a glass of tea, my dear,” he 
added calmly, turning to his wife. “ Let it be very hot 
and well sweetened, if you please.” 

Timothy left the manorial court-yard with his eyes 
fixed on the ground — going down the road where it seemed 
to him that he saw Fedotia gliding before him with the 
unfolded kerchief floating over her arm. He reached the 
square on which the church stood. Every house in the 
vicinity was empty. Some very young children, left alone 
in their cradles, cried out to him with joy as he opened 
the door. He hesitated. What should he do? To re- 
turn to his master without carrying the intelligence he 
had been sent to seek, was to run a great risk. To enter 


104 


sav£li’s expiation. 


the church would perhaps be more dangerous still. Who 
knows if the enraged populace would not tear him limb 
from limb, in default of higher game? He decided on a 
middle course. He slipped into the vestibule of the 
church, accosted an old woman who was saying her prayers 
with great earnestness, making profound inclinations of 
the body and signs of the cross all around her. 

“ What do they say in the village, my good woman?” 
he whispered. 

She looked at him sidewise. 

“ They say that it is a great pity that such a pretty girl 
should die so young ! ” 

And she resumed her orisons. Timothy, well satisfied, 
returned to the house and repeated faithfully exactly what 
he had heard. Bagrianof, not being able to help himself, 
was obliged to seem content. He soon shut himself into 
his dressing-room, and there awaited the tolling of the bell 
which would soon begin again. It was not remorse which 
was his companion, as he paced the floor with a step which 
was as steady and regular as the swaying of the pendulum 
on the clock. Why should remorse enter the heart or brain 
of this great and powerful Seigneur ? Kemorse for what ? 
For having committed once more an act that was by no 
means new to him. Had all the other girls gone from out 
his presence and drowned themselves ? Had they not at the 
proper time and season married and become mothers of stout 
little boys, with flaxen hair tumbling into their eves? 
Boys, which were many of them his sons in all probability; 
but of this he took care never to assure himself by any 


sav£li*s expiation. 


105 


questions. Why had not this little fool done like all the 
others ? She had a husband all ready to take her. Who 
on earth would have supposed that she, instead of marrying 
decently and quietly like the rest of the world, should go 
and drown herself “ purposely ? ” 

He did not like this at all ; in fact, he was quite dis- 
pleased, and had she been still living he would have 
inflicted a severe punishment upon her. But she had 
escaped his vengeance ! 

The dull, heavy tolling began again. The body was 
being taken from the church to the cemetery. Why was 
it, he asked himself, that no one had spoken in his presence 
of this event ? It would be naturally one of interest to 
him. They had evidently concealed it from him, and 
why ? Did the people about him think that it would be 
disagreeable for him to hear that this girl had destroyed 
herself? But why should it affect him? Was it his 
fault ? Would any one have the impudence to say that it 
was his fault? He would soon settle that, indeed ! 

Bagrianof went toward the door, as if to go out. The 
great church bell was still tolling with long, even strokes; 
the smaller bells were heard from time to time with a 
sound like sobs and sighs. Bagrianof turned away from 
the door, and resumed his walk. 

His fault? How was he to blame? Not the least in 
the world ! She had come to him, a brazen-faced creature ; 
she had asked pardon for her lover, and who could have 
known that he was really her lover? He was probably 
only her betrothed. The girls in the village were not 


10G 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


generally so wonderfully virtuous. No, indeed! it was 
not his fault. She had no business to bother him, no 
business to come near him. But who was it he heard 
saying that it was a murder? that he was responsible? 

He turned quickly to chastise the scoundrel. 

lie was alone ! 

Then he remembered that it was Timothy who used the 
word “ purposely” to him, as if to brave him. She had 
drowned herself purposely — it was Timothy who had said 
so, and Timothy should pay for his words later on; and 
so should the priest, who buried this girl with all the 
honor due to a Seigneur ! 

Bagrianof stopped. The tolling had ceased. The 
silence, and the determination to which he had arrived, of 
punishing the old servant and the insolent priest, had 
done him much good. He seated himself at his desk, 
opened a drawer, took out the letter he had written so 
long before to the archbishop, laid it before him while he 
lighted his cigar, and then he took it up and read it over 
leisurely. But he failed to understand one word of its 
contents. 

Fedotia had a superb funeral. Except the babies whose 
cries had bewildered old Timothy, not one human being in 
the village had remained in the house. 

The bereaved father had asked for High Mass, with a 
full choir, and the priest consented, taking the entire re- 
sponsibility upon himself. He knew that he did this at 
the cost of his position. The young mother was gaining 
strength rapidly, the infant seemed determined to live, 





SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


107 


and no matter how cruel the Seigneur was disposed to be, 
he must at least give him a month’s notice. In a month 
he would put all his treasures on a sledge, and go with 
them wherever his Heavenly Father and his Superiors 
should see fit to send him; to Siberia, if they deemed it 
advisable, to preach the Gospel to the savages. Was he 
not sure of bread at least ? And was he not rich in the 
possession of an idolized wife and child ? 

While he recited prayers over the bier, the crowd was 
so dense that the heat was stifling, although there was no 
fire within the building. 

The men, with downcast eyes, seemed to inhale an odor 
of vengeance mingled with the scent of the spruce and pines 
which they crushed under their feet. The dead girl, lying 
there with uncovered face, was to them their battle-flag, 
under which they would fight and conquer. It is not the 
old Homans alone, to whom a woman’s frail form has been 
the symbol of insulted Liberty ! 

The funeral ceremonies nevertheless concluded without 
any outbreak. Four peasants lifted the bier. The old 
father and Saveli were either side of the head, and thus 
was little Fedotia borne from the church to the solemn 
tolling of that bell, which had so strangely affected the 
nerves of the Seigneur. 

The entire village followed this funeral procession to 
the cemetery that occupied the centre of a thinned-out 
wood, and lay at but a short distance from the church. It 
was a spot where the graves in the spring-time were 
covered with wild flowers, and where hundreds of birds 
built their nests. 


108 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


The snow now lay in one level surface over all the 
mounds. Fedotia’s open grave was all that marred this 
immaculate whiteness. The procession, with the priest 
bearing the crucifix at the head, climbed the low hill and 
wound along the narrow paths until it reached the yawn- 
ing grave, waiting to receive the youthful victim. The 
lid of the coffin was closed, and it was carefully and 
noiselessly lowered. The priest dropped upon it a handful 
of earth, while I§r6mei leaned over the grave for a last 
look of all that was left of their darling. The coffin of 
white pine was soon concealed by masses of frozen earth 
and snow. 

I6r6mei, according to custom,* invited his friends to 
return to his house. They followed him thither in pro- 
found silence, each person feeling, as is the phrase, “ that 
something was about to happen,” 


t 




sav^li’s expiation. 


109 


CHAPTER XI. 


WEIRD FUNERAL MEATS. 

HE funeral repast began in profound silence. Invited 



-L by Ier6mei, the priest nevertheless excused himself 
from remaining, giving as a reason the illness of his wife. 
In reality, however, he too felt the storm in the air. The 
peasants began, according to custom, with hard-boiled eggs 
and rice cooked in water, the invariable foundation of 
meals served on these occasions. The women remained in 
another cabin. A large goblet of raw brandy made the 
rounds of the table at short intervals. By degrees con- 
versation began, but it was not in any degree animated or 
interested; each felt that the words he uttered fell on 
unheeding ears, and every one assumed an attitude of 
expectation. The afternoon thus passed away; the sky 
grew darker, and night was near at hand, when suddenly 
Fedotia’s father rose and began to speak. At the first 
sound of his voice utter silence prevailed. From all the 
corners of the isba attentive heads turned toward the old 


man. 


“ Brothers ! ” he said, “ I had but one daughter — I 
have lost her. We have laid her in the earth; all that 
remains to us is an eternal memory .” 

According to custom the assembly chanted three times 


110 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


in chorus, “an eternal remembrance,” and then relapsed 
into silence. 

“ My Fedotia never harmed any one,” resumed the 
father, in a voice full of tears ; “ she was as gentle as a 
lamb, and as pure as a dove. She was betrothed, as you 
all know, to this brave fellow:” he pointed to Saveli, who 
sat at his right. “ She would have been married, she 
would have been as good a wife as she had been daughter. 
She was young, she was healthy, and yet she is dead! 
How is this ? ” 

lie looked around the room : his hearers were listening 
intently, and several pairs of eyes, animated by the brandy, 
were riveted on him with the tenacity of incipient intoxi- 
cation. 

“How is this?” repeated Ieremci. “How could a 
beautiful, young and healthy girl drown herself suddenly 
in the river, and leave her old father without a soul to 
close his eyes and lay him in his grave? Is it natural, I 
ask you again, for a young girl to prefer death to the 
kisses of her lover ? ” 

The language of the old man was a singular combination 
of simplicity and Biblical phraseology, the latter uncon- 
sciously acquired by assiduous attention at the lengthy 
services of the church. 

“ Is it natural,” he resumed, “ for a young girl, when she 
sees her betrothed coming toward her, to cover her face, 
and cry out to him, ( Do not touch me ! ’ Is it natural,” 
he continued, becoming more excited, “ that, covered with 
shame, she should run to the river and throw herself in — 


sav£li ? s expiation. 


Ill 


thus seeking death, rather than look a man in the face? 
No, it is not natural,” he cried, in a voice like distant 
thunder, as he struck the floor with his cane. 

All started. 

“ My daughter is dead,” he resumed, looking around 
him with an air of defiance. “ She died because our 
Seigneur, who has no more honor than a low-lived cur, 
took her, my snow-drop, my white dove, to amuse him- 
self with ! — And she, not daring to meet the eyes of her 
betrothed, not daring to return to her old father, went and 
drowned herself in the cold river. And if any one should 
ever say to me, ‘ Your daughter killed herself: it was a 
deadly sin/ I should say to whomsoever said these words, 
i You lie ! my daughter committed no sin — my daughter 
did not kill herself — Bagrianof killed her ! ’ Murderer ! I 
say murderer ! ” 

The old man in sublime wrath threw up his arms to 
Heaven. All the men rose to their feet with one common 
movement : “ Murderer ! ” they cried, as with one voice. 

They were no longer afraid ; they were no longer timid 
sheep, meek in the hands of the shearer. Vengeance with 
one sweep of her huge wings had purified the atmosphere 
about them. They thirsted for revenge — they had freed 
themselves from bondage. 

“ He is a murderer!” repeated Ieremu, in a calmer 
tone, but striking the floor with his heavy stick as he 
spoke. “And this murder is not the first that he has com- 
mitted. Have you forgotten our brethren whom he sent 
to Siberia barely three months ago ? Have you forgotten 


112 


SAVfjLl’s EXPIATION. 


the lashes they received ? Have you forgotten the blood 
that poured from their poor wounded backs, and the 
carts which bore our brethren far away to the East — have 
you forgotten them ? And the women who were widowed, 
and the children who found themselves orphans — have 
they forgotten their husbands and their fathers ? And do 
you not know that more than one of those men who 
started on that journey that day must have died by the 
roadside? And those who are still living must die far 
from their homes ; when, we shall never know, and no one 
at their funerals will drink from the glass of brandy, the 
cup of bitterness which we empty at our funeral repast, 
and which we drink to-day for F6dotia, and to her eternal 
memory.” 

The goblet of brandy circulated from hand to hand. 
Each person touched his lips to it, and the chorus again 
swelled to the dusky rafters, as they three times chanted 
the funeral responses — “ Eternal memory.” 

“ Those who fell by the wayside, and those who will 
die in that distant land, have been killed by the same hand 
which killed my daughter. It is our Seigneur — Bagrianof 
— who has ruined our village; we are men no longer; and 
the people round about us call us ‘ the wolves ; ’ they are 
right — we are wolves, we hate and are at war with the 
whole world ; the whole world,” he repeated, with increas- 
ing rage, and grinding his teeth together ; “ the Seigneurs 
and their agents, the army and the judges and the courts. 

“ But there are agents and judges and soldiers every- 
where, and all peasants do not hate them ! We hate them 


because of Bagrianof — because he is so cruel and so wicked 
that he compels us to doubt even the goodness of God ! 
Forgive me, Heavenly Father!” -he said, inclining him- 
self deeply toward the Holy Images in the eastern corner 
of the cabin. “ Forgive me, if my tongue has blasphemed ! 
May this sin with others, with all our sorrows and our 
pangs, lie heavy on the soul of Bagrianof!” 

The crowd was agitated like a tempestuous sea. A 
murmur of but half- restrained indignation ran through it, 
and reached Tdremei. The old man had nothing more to 
say. Saveli now rose to speak. 

“We have all of us suffered enough ! ” he said, in his 
clear, well-modulated tones. “Besides, I have sworn to 
avenge the wrongs of the girl who was to have been my 
wife! My brethren knew not what they did when they 
gave his life to this dog. Why did they not strangle 
him when they held the cord in their hands? But this 
time he shall not escape. What have you to say to this?” 

A thrill of pleasure pervaded the assembled multitude ; 
they seemed to feel the throat of their Seigneur in the 
grasp of their muscular hands. Night came on; the 
women entered to light the pine torches, which soon 
flamed in the iron braces by which they were fastened to 
the wall. 

By their unsteady light, which filled the isba with a 
strong, resinous odor, the cadaverous faces and fierce eyes 
of the peasants looked more than ever terrible. 

Suddenly the door opened, and a man scattered the 
crowd to the right and the left as he rushed in and 
7 


114 


saveli’s expiation. 


pushed his way up to I6r6mei, who sat on the further side 
of the table, upon which the new-comer threw himself 
with a loud, agonized shriek. Some one hurriedly held 
a torch toward his face to recognize him; it was old 
Timothy, Bagrianof’s valet. 

A roar of indignation filled the room. 

“What are you doing here, dog of other dogs?” cried 
the peasants. “Do you come as a spy? Lick-spittle! 
knave ! ” 

They continued to heap insulting epithets upon the old 
servant, who continued to writhe and groan. As they 
took him by the shoulders to thrust him outside, he 
uttered another shriek of pain. 

“Justice!” he cried, lifting his left arm toward heaven. 
“Justice! In the name of Christ, brothers, aid and 
protect me ! ” 

They saw then that his right arm hung helplessly at 
his side. 

“Wfiat^is the matter?” said Ieremei to him. “Let 
him be; he is a guest under my roof.” 

A small space was left about Timothy. Groaning with 
pain, he, with the aid of his left hand, lifted his right and 
showed to the horrified men about him the tumefied, dis- 
torted member, where the flesh was burned away far 
below the nails. The sight was a sickening one. 

“Who did that?” said Saveli, slowly, but with flashing 
eyes. 

“Who? Why, who could have done it except that 
dog — that devil, Bagrianof ! ” 


sav£li’s expiation. 


115 




Insults and exclamations again recommenced ; but this 
time they were directed to the master, not to the servant. 
I<3r6mei sent for the village nurse, who was in the next 
cabin, and who came at once. It was she who was in the 
habit of dressing all the wounds thereabouts. She imme- 
diately applied oil and proper bandages. The skin was 
gone; the flesh hung in strips; the nails had fallen away; 
the arm would follow possibly — they could not tell — 
even amputation might be necessary; but village science 
taught them nothing of surgery. 

When Timothy’s arm was bandaged, and supported by 
a handkerchief around the neck of the old man, Idremei 
bade the nurse depart. 

“ ow tell us,” he said, turning to the unfortunate man, 
who was comforting himself with a glass of brandy; 
“ tell us how he did this.” 

“ Well,” said Timothy, “ the master wanted me — Do 
you know why this has happened?” he said, interrupting 
himself suddenly, and turning toward lerthnrt.’. “And 
you — do you know why?” And Timothy turned toward 
Saved i, who was eagerly listening. “ It is because I tried 
to prevent the dead Fedotia from entering his house !” 

“Did you do that?” said Saveli, in a doubting tone. 

“Yes; when I saw her coming — so sweet, so young and 
so pretty — I felt a great pity for her. She asked me if 
she could see the master; she wanted, she said, to ask him 
' to forgive you, Saveli. I bade her go away ; I told her 
that the master was not a good sight for her eyes ; and 
she was going, when the master-^-that cursed beast — » 
appeared at his window and called her. 


116 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


“ You know the rest as well as I. But he saw that I 
did not want her to come in, and he was angry with me. 
This morning he asked me what she died of, and I told 
him ; this displeased him still more. He sent me to the 
village to find out what was said there; and I told him 
when I went back just what I heard said — that it was a 
great pity that such a pretty girl should die so young. 
Then he was more displeased than ever; and in the even- 
ing, when 1 carried in the samovar for his tea, just at five 
o’clock, he declared that the water was not boiling. But 
it was not true, brothers — the water boiled.” 

Timothy involuntarily tried to make the sign of the 
cross to reinforce his assertion. But this instinctive move- 
ment of his maimed arm elicited from his lips a groan of 
pain. He was unable to speak for a few minutes. The 
silent audience waited patiently. He resumed his narra- 
tion. 

“ It was boiling,” he repeated, “ for the steam was 
coming out in clouds, and the charcoal was still burning. 
Then, to please him, I took the samovar away again, and 
put in new charcoal ; and when it was all lighted, and the 
water bubbling up through the cover, I carried it in 
again and placed it on the table. When I went in, I 
noticed that Bagrianof was looking at me with that wicked 
expression of his — laughing, you understand ! For twenty- 
five years I have served him, and yet I have never become 
accustomed to this look of his; and when I see it, I never 
know what I am doing. So, when I put dow r n the 
samovar as it ought to have stood, with the handle of the 




SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 117 

faucet toward the lady, I put it so that it was in front of 
my master.” 

“ ‘ Have you forgotten how to put a samovar on the 
table ?’ said the Seigneur, laughing. His white teeth, 
shining through his white moustache, were as sharp and 
pointed as those of a fox. ‘ You talk too much with 
pretty girls ! your brain is turned, old man ! ’ 

“ 1 Excuse me, master, I made a mistake/ said I, as 
meekly as possible. ‘ I spoke of the samovar, you under- 
stand/ 

“ ‘ Turn it round/ he said, ‘and place it as it ought to 
be/ I obeyed. If you knew, brothers, how that water 
boiled ! it ran over the brim and down into the tray. 
Then Bagrianof said to me : ‘ Roll up your sleeve and let 
me see your arm/ I rolled up my sleeve without think- 
ing any harm. Ah ! if I had only ran out of the room. 
But I should not have got away. I had no sooner rolled 
up my sleeve than he caught me here, just above the 
elbow, with that grasp of steel which I have had occasion 
to know before this; he grasped my arm, as I say, and 
held it under the faucet and turned on the boiling water. 
Ah, brothers ! ” cried the poor creature, writhing on his 
seat at the memory of the agony, “ he let that water run 
until every drop was gone. I wanted to fall on my knees 
and beg for mercy, but he held me up to the very end. 
lS T o one can get away from him, I can tell you, if he 
chooses to keep you; his hand is like a vice, and then 
the pain was so horrible that I had only strength to 
scream.” 


118 


sav£li’s expiation. 


“And the lady ? ” said Saveli : “ was she there ? what 
did she say ? ” 

“ Poor soul ! she flung herself on the floor, embraced 
her husband’s knees, and said to him : ‘Burn me, but let 
that man go ! 9 He pushed her away, and she fell back in 
a dead faint ! ” 

The peasants had listened breathlessly; their broad 
chests heaved. This man — this valet, hitherto despised, 
detested and condemned — had now by force of his martyr- 
dom become one of themselves. They gathered around 
him, and these “wolves” found sweet words of consolation 
for their new brother. 

“ Well,” said Saveli, after a few moments, “ why did 
you come to tell us all this? ” 

“ To implore your aid in the vengeance I have sworn,” 
answered Timothy, in a voice of concentrated wrath. “ I 
cannot do it alone, but I will avenge my wrongs ! It 
seems to me that the Seigneur owes you something too, 
my brothers ! ” 

A cry of rage broke from each breast. No one listened 
to what any one said ; each had something to propose, and 
all spoke at once. 

“ No!” cried Timothy, above all the tumult, “no rope ! 
That would not succeed. If he is allowed to speak, he 
will wheedle you all again ; he could wheedle the very 
stones themselves, with his tender voice and his hypocrit- 
ical eyes that he can make as sw r eet as honey. A knife ! 
a hatchet! they are sure things ! ” 

“And the blood!” said a voice from out the shadow; 
“ and the punishment which will follow ! ” 


sav£li’s expiation. 


119 


They all listened to hear Timothy’s reply. 

“ If the house should be burned, and if it were an 
accident?” he answered, quickly; “what then? In 
that way there would be no blood.” 

“ He who has sinned by fire perishes by fire!” said 
Ieremei, sententiously. 

“ When?” muttered Saveli through his teeth. 

“ This night! This very night ! I shall never sleep 
again while he cumbers the earth.” 

“ I shall wield the hatchet,” said Sav6li, quietly. 

“Each of us shall have one!” whispered I6r6mei, 
hoarsely. “At what hour?” 

“At midnight. All of you come. We shall not be too 
many. And the house must burn, you understand. I 
will set the fire.” 

“And the lady?” said I6r6mei, suddenly; “and the 
little girl?” 

“ They will be taken to the priest’s,” answered Timothy. 
“ They are not wicked. When the flames burst out, I 
will waken them and take care of them.” 


120 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


CHAPTER XII. 


VENGEANCE. 



AGRIANOF’S household was buried in slumber. 


J — ' Snow had been softly falling for several hours, and 
the roads, the trees and the walls were all white. The 
sky, gray and sullen, seemed almost to touch the roofs; 
the drifting masses were piling up as if they wished to 
swallow the houses. There was not a breath of wind, nor 
was there a light in the village, while in the Seigneur’s 
house there were only two windows faintly illuminated. 
These were those in the master’s dressing-room, and the 
light came from the lamp which burned day and night 
before the shrine. 

Confiding in his strong locks and in his dogs, Bagrianof 
slept profoundly. The troublesome reflections of the 
morning had been dissipated by the flood of boiling water 
which he had poured upon his servant’s arm. 

He had thus properly punished, he said to himself, the 
insolence of the boor who had ventured to tell him to his 
face that Fedotia had drowned herself “ purposely.” 
Nevethcless, this word “ purposely” had left on his mind 
a most disagreeable impression. To drive this impression 
away, therefore, he had recourse to a game of “ patience,” 
that unfailing distraction of provincial weariness. “ Petites 
patience” with one pack of cards, not affording him suf- 


sav£li’s expiation. 


121 




ficient interest, he embarked in a “grande patience” with 
two complete packs, and in this game he had found so much 
amusement that he retired in a most comfortable state of 
mind, having made his eight little piles all complete. 

The eight piles still lay on his table, ready in the 
morning to recall his triumph to his mind as soon as he 
opened his eyes. The victor was sleeping that good and 
righteous sleep which follows a well-fought battle, when 
the door opened gently, for the hinges and lock had been 
carefully oiled by Timothy. 

One by one, closely following each other, the peasants 
crept noiselessly into the room. Their suppressed breathing 
even was scarcely to be heard. When the room was full 
the door was closed, and at this sound, slight as it was, 
Bagrianof started up. 

Often, in his dreams — for his dreams had been the aveng- 
ers of those whom he oppressed — he had seen his room 
full of hideous faces glaring at him with ferocious eyes. 
He had often waked with the rope about his neck — 
that rope which Ilioncha had held in his hands for a 
quarter of an hour and then removed — “ the fool l” But 
ordinarily, these unpleasant sights disappeared when he 
opened his eyes, and Bagrianof would turn over, make the 
sign of the cross to drive away the evil one, and then fall 
asleep again. But to-night his dream had such a hideous 
suggestion of reality that he sat with his mouth and eyes 
wide open, without daring to move. His enemies sur- 
rounded him : all those whom he had wronged; all those at 
whom he had struck or in any way molested ; those whose 




122 


SAY ^ Li’s EXPIATION. 


daughters or sisters he had dishonored ; those whose 
brothers or sons he had sent to Siberia — all were there, 
each with a knife or a hatchet in his hand, and nearest 
him, close at his bedside, were the father of Fedotia and 
her betrothed, looking at him with eyes wherein burned 
the baleful fire of hatred. One of the other peasants was 
busy lighting all the candles in the room, that they might 
have better light for the work before them. 

By this time Bagrianof realized that he was not dream- 
ing, and that his hour had come. 

He had been told over and over again that his peasants 
would murder him ; the parting words of the governor- 
general went through his mind like a flaming sword. “It 
is a great pity that they did not kill you ! ” 

“ Mercy ! ” he exclaimed, extending his hands in sup- 
plication. 

“ Mercy ? ” repeated Ieremei, looking at him sternly, but 
calmly. “My poor daughter said ‘ mercy F to you not 
much more than forty-eight hours ago, there, in that very 
spot, you miserable dog! where you have been sleeping 
calmly. Did you grant her mercy?” 

“ I pardoned Saveli ! ” stammered Bagrianof, seized 
with mortal terror. 

“ But I will never pardon you ! ” said Saveli, quietly, 
with no more apparent emotion than the old man had 
evinced. “ You killed my betrothed : I loved her more 
than my life — you are about to die ! ” 

“ I will give you all my money if you will spare my 
life!” said the Seigneur, his tongue growing so thick in 
his mouth that he could hardly articulate a syllable. 



SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


123 


"Listen, Seigneur, listen! We are all here — all the 
village — do you understand? We are about to kill you, 
because you are accursed of God ! ” 

“ Thou hast filled the measure of thine iniquity,” said 
Ier6mei. “ Pray God to receive thy spirit, since the hour 
of thy death has arrived ! ” 

Bagrianof started to his knees ; two loaded pistols were 
on his night-table: he tried to reach them. As he 
extended his arm Saveli’s hatchet struck him between 
the shoulders. He fell on the bed, crying, “ Help! help !” 

No one ever knew who struck the mortal blow, for ten 
hatchets flew through the air at the same moment. 

A terrible silence followed. The peasants looked at 
each other. Bagrianof lay motionless ; a stream of blood 
flowed along the linen until it dripped upon the carpet. 

“ There is no time to lose ! ” said one among them. 
‘ Set the fire. Quick ! ” 

Then, as if a sudden panic had seized them, the assas- 
sins piled the furniture upon the body; chairs, books, 
pictures, newspapers, clothing — any movable articles, in 
short, which would easily take fire; and soon the confused 
mass touched the ceiling. Some one then brought an 
armful of straw, and thrust it under the bed. 

“ Stand back ! ” said IerSmei to the peasants. “ It was 
you who struck the first blow,” he continued, addressing 
Saveli, “ although mine was the first right. But no hand 
save mine shall light this fire ! ” 

“ So be it ! ” answered Sav6li, taking his stand by the 
door. 


124 


SAV&Ll’S EXPIATION. 


Ier6mei took two candles, arranged them carefully in the 
centre of the bundle of straw, and blew them for a moment 
with his mouth as if he were lighting his fire in his stove 
at home. Smoke filled the room almost instantly ; then 
a slender flame crept up and along the hangings of the 
bed, from which the red stream still ran, but more slowly. 
A pool of blood was gradually forming on the floor. 

“ Open the vasistas ! ” said Ier&nei, still standing by 
the bed. 

A peasant threw open the two movable panes in the 
double sash, and suddenly the thick smoke was pierced 
by innumerable tongues of flame, which licked the muslin 
curtains and flashed over the pile of furniture. The eight 
little piles of cards lay intact upon the table. Saveli 
gathered them in one hand and tossed them upon the 
funeral pile ; the cards curled and quivered like living 
things, and were then seized upon by the fire, which was 
gradually gaining strength. 

“ That will do ! ” said Saveli. “ Now, let us lock the 
door, my friends. Farewell, Seigneur ! ” 

With these parting words to Bagrianof, uttered with 
dismal gayety, Saveli closed the door and locked it ; and 
then, going out upon the porch, tossed the key into a deep 
snow-drift. No one heard it fall. 

The peasants were now all outside the house and gath- 
ered in the court-yard, where they watched the gathering 
fury of the flames within BagrianoFs dressing-room 
through the white linen shades; they could see their 
varying tints — sometimes a deep crimson, sometimes again 


sav£li’s expiation. 


325 


a vivid scarlet. Torrents of smoke were pouring also 
from the cellar- windows. Timothy had done his part of 
the work well, and had laid, along the foundation of the 
house, piles of light kindling-wood and pine knots; the 
wood-work, highly painted and varnished, began to blister 
and turn brown. 

“And the Lady?” said Ieremei. “Are we going to let 
her be burned alive with the Demoiselle?” 

“ Do not be troubled,” answered Timothy, who, stand- 
ing a few paces off, was contemplating his work; “she is 
all right. The other wing will not take fire for some time 
yet ; we must not wake her too soon, she will tell us to 
save her husband.” 

“ Go ! ” said Saveli. “ The key is lost, and we will tell 
her that he has locked himself in. Make haste.” 

And in good truth there was little time to lose. 
Awakened by the smell of smoke, the maids were rushing 
out-doors like a flock of frightened sparrows : not one of 
them had thought, however, of awakening her mistress. 
Timothy rushed into the house, but, with his arm in a 
sling, could do little. When he had found some heavy fur 
pelisses, he awakened Madame Bagrianof, and tried to 
lead her, with her child in her arms, out into the court- 
yard ; but the floor of the ante-room at that moment burst 
into flames, and he was compelled to relinquish all idea 
of crossing it. 

For a moment the old servant thought that he, with the 
two women he had come to rescue, must perish in the 
doomed house. Fortunately Saveli realized their danger; 


126 


sav£li’s expiation. 


and, climbing upon the ledge formed by the sub-basement 
of brick, he, with the same hatchet with which he had 
struck Bagrianof, broke in the glass and sashes of the 
windows of the bedroom, which were only ten or twelve 
feet above the ground, and swinging himself up into the 
room with his strong arms, he re-entered the blazing 
house. 

It was time : the doors and curtains were all on fire. He 
went out once with the little girl, who clung in terror to 
her mother; a second time he bore Madame Bagrianof, 
who lost consciousness when she saw that her child was 
safe. 

As he climbed up the third time to assist Timothy to 
escape he hesitated : was it worth while to risk his life for 
this valet, who had been so long a panderer to Bagrianof’s 
cruel vices ? The sight of the despairing old man, how- 
ever, vainly endeavoring with the aid of one arm to climb 
up to the window, determined him to further efforts; he 
succeeded in helping Timothy through the window, plac- 
ing him on the brick ledge, and then got him down upon 
the snow by the side of his mistress. Some of the 
peasants, moved by pity, carried the poor woman and her 
child to the priest’s house. Vladimir Andreitch wel- 
comed them with all the compassion of a generous heart, 
and exerted himself at once to restore Madame Bagrianof 
to consciousness. 

When she opened her eyes, the first cry of this martyr 
to duty was : 

“ Save my husband ! ” 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 127 

While the priest sought to calm the widow’s terrors, the 
peasants stood watching the burning house. Flames issued 
from all the windows; the roof, half fallen in, permitted 
the escape of bursts of smoke, set thick with brilliant 
sparks, which were scattered over the snow like fire-works. 
As yet, no wind fanned this funeral pyre that consumed 
the body of their common enemy. The snow, softly flushed 
by the reflections of the flame, had a look almost of rejoic- 
ing ; while the reddened sky hung low as- if anxious to 
conceal from the people in the neighborhood the tragic 
event that was taking place. 

The village was there in its entirety ; all the women 
stood looking on, and no human being made the smallest 
effort to prevent the fire from completing the work it had 
begun. 

The more sensible of the peasants, and some there were 
even in this band of wolves, were satisfied when they 
found that their Lady and the Demoiselle were in safety. 
The general sentiment was that of relief and deliverance. 
The peasants who appeared last on the scene asked in a 
whisper if the master was within. On receiving an 
affirmative answer, each of them stood still and waited. 

And now the roof was one light blaze, and then sent 
suddenly up one superb mass of scarlet and yellow flames ; 
the walls tottered and fell with a loud noise. 

The snow, which for a time had ceased to fall, now again 
began ; enormous feathery flakes floated along indolently 
like lazy butterflies, others again glittered and sparkled 
like spangles ; then the storm thickened so that a veil fell 
as it were between the spectators and the dying flames. 


128 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


“Well! children,” said a voice, “ I think that we had 
best go to our beds.” 

The crowd dispersed ; scattering along the Toad in small 
groups. The servants and maids took refuge in some of 
the village houses, and there lamented the loss of their 
clothes and possessions. 

“Hold your tongues!” said Timothy, as he turned 
away. “You have gained more this night than you could 
lose in a hundred years ! ” 

This great truth struck them all, and they were com- 
forted. 

The ruin was but a reddened mass of ashes, when two 
loiterers turned back once more to look at it. 

“ How fast it burned ! ” said one. 

“ It was magnificent ! ” answered the other. 

When Iereinei entered his hut with Saveli still at his 
side, he stood still a moment and seemed to be buried in 
thought. 

“ Where are you going? ” he said to the young man. 

“ To town. The peddler has a passport for me. And 
you?” 

“ I ? I remain here, of course ! ” 

“You are not afraid?” 

The old man shrugged his shoulders. 

“Afraid of what ? Hoes not every one know that it is 
an accident ? ” 

Saveli was silent; he was examining his hatchet; he 
wiped it several times upon the skin of his pelisse. 

“ Give it to me,” said Ier6mei. “ I will clean it with 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 129 

mine, and will replace it in your house. You had best go 
away : you are young — go and see the world ; I am old, 
and if they should arrest me, what does it matter? I have 
no one but myself! ” 

He threw himself heavily upon the stove to sleep. 

“ Father ! ” said Saveli, after a silence. 

“Well?” 

“ Give me your blessing. In the distant lands, where I 
am going, it will bring me good luck ! ” 

Ier6mei rose, and made the sign of the cross over Saveli’s 
bowed head. The youth kissed the old man’s hand — that 
hand which had set the master’s house on fire. 

“ May God be with thee,” said the old peasant. “ We 
shall meet in another world.” 

Saveli went to his own cabin, took a pair of boots, all 
the money he had, and harnessed his little horse to a low 
sledge, and departed. When he was two versts from the 
village, and upon a slight elevation, he turned, and looked 
back. The sky was still red above the ruin, which, at 
intervals, would glow with a stronger light. The falling 
snow quickly destroyed the tracks of his light sledge and 
the prints of his horse’s hoofs. All was favorable for his 
purpose, and he continued his way hurriedly. Beaching 
the town before daybreak, he awoke his friend, the peddler. 
The explanation was brief, but to the point. 

That same evening Saveli set forth for an unknown land, 
his pack upon his shoulders, and his heart full of the 
strange joy of knowing himself free from bondage. 

8 


130 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

“fools! are you afraid?” 

HEN day broke over the still smoking ruins of 



▼ V Bagrianof’s mansion, the trembling widow, sup- 
ported by the priest, approached the spot which had been 
her home. 

“He is there!” she said, pointing where the left wing 
had stood, and where only a few hours before her husband’s 
windows had shone out into the night. “He must be 
looked for. He may be living,” she murmured, with a 
sigh. “ If he is alive,” she continued, after a brief silence, 
“ we must rescue him ; if he be dead, we must render him 
the last rites.” 

The priest was silent. If Bagrianof were living, how 
terribly swift would be the measures he would take of 
retaliation ! for the good man was certain that the fire was 
no accident, and in his own mind he had even named the 
guilty parties. 

“Call the staroste, I beg of you, Father Vladimir,” 
said the widow, calmly. “ We must set men to work at 
once.” 

This woman, so gentle and weak under marital control — 
almost stupefied, in fact, by ill-treatment — suddenly assumed 
all the rights of her position. Was it hope, or was it fear, 


sav£li’s expiation. 


131 


that spurred her on, and made her so unlike what the 
priest had known her? 

Several curious women and anxious men were crowded 
about the entrance to the court-yard. The widow 
approached them as near as the heat would permit her, 
and looked at the place where her husband undoubtedly 
lay. The staroste’s step behind her startled her. She 
turned quickly. 

“Send the whole of the laborers here at once — every 
man of them,” she said. “ Let them bring hatchets, pick- 
axes and shovels without delay, and let them dig in this 
spot.” 

Several peasants, who were close behind the staroste, 
looked at each other with startled faces. 

“ Suppose Bagrianof should not be dead ! ” one 
whispered. 

“ Why do this, good Lady ? ” said the most courageous 
among them. “ The fire was the will of God. He allowed 
us to save you, and you are here with the Demoiselle, 
God be thanked ! But it is plain to see that it was not 
His will that the Seigneur should be saved — since — ” 

“ We are not the judges of the will of God,” interrupted 
Madame Bagrianof, with a haughtiness which surprised 
herself. “ I am the mistress at present, and I insist on the 
men going to work at once ! ” 

A great murmur of discontent was heard on all sides. 

“ But the fire is burning still — there is danger ! No, 
we will not try ! ” 

The crowd and the rebellion increased momentarily. 


132 


sav£li’s expiation. 


Madame Bagrianof ’s courage failed her ; she extended her 
hands in supplication. 

“ My brothers, my friends,” she said, “ I know well 
that he has been to yon a hard and inhuman master. But 
he is my husband — he is the father of my child. I have 
sworn to be faithful to him — even unto death ! ” She 
burst into tears. Duty was stronger than the sentiment 
even of self-preservation. The murmur continued. 

“ Fools!” cried a voice of thunder from a distance, 
“ fools! I will go myself, if you are afraid!” Ier6mei 
pushed through the crowd, his stick in one hand, his 
hatchet — still the same hatchet — in the other. When he 
reached Madame Bagrianof, he lifted his fur cnp. “ You 
are a good woman, mistress, and we are ready to serve you,” 
he said. “ These fools here are afraid of dead bodies ” — 
he looked around at the crowd — “ but I am not afraid — 
only, mistress, you must not expect to find the Seigneur 
alive; but we will bring you all that remains of him. 
Bring water, some of you ! Do you think that w T e wish 
to burn the soles of our feet? Well! snow, then, while 
we are waiting ! ” and setting the example, Ieremei’ threw 
snow on the smoking ruin, and soon buckets and pails of 
water came from all sides. 

The priest entreated Madame Bagrianof to go away with 
him while the search was going on, but she obstinately 
refused. Shivering with cold, her teeth chattering, not- 
withstanding all her furs, she sat on a low wooden chair, 
brought by some peasant from his dwelling, and watched 
every movement of the men at their task. 


sav£li’s expiation. 


133 


All the villagers toiled on with feverish anxiety ; a few 
words whispered in the ear of the most backward by 
I6remei had done wonders. Water was poured on in such 
abundance, that, if Bagrianof had not been dead, he would 
have been drowned in this icy deluge. 

After two hours thus spent, they were able to tread 
without danger on the brick sub-basement under the 
dressing-room ; a half hour later they found fragments of 
furniture. Then came a long silence. The panelled 
arches of the cellars had sustained a portion of the flooring ; 
and amid a heap of cinders they found some carbonized 
bones and charred flesh, which represented their master. 

“ Well ? ” cried Madame Bagrianof. 

“ May God grant him eternal repose/’ said the peasants, 
uncovering their heads. 

“ You have done well, my children,” said the widow, 
gently. “ I thank you ! ” 

She drew her veil over her eyes, and meekly allowed 
herself to be led away by the priest. As she crossed the 
threshold of the father’s house, her child ran to her and 
threw herself into her arms. 

“ I have only you, my darling,” said the widow, press- 
ing her daughter to her heart. “ Blessed be God who has 
preserved us one to another.” 

An express was despatched at once to town, returning 
that same evening with a coffin lined with velvet, within 
which were deposited Bagrianof’s remains. 

The funeral services were as impressive as if subsequent 
events had been in no way unusual. The widow, however, 


134 


SAV£ Li’S EXPIATION. 


excused herself from offering a funeral feast by reason of 
having no home. The death of her husband had brought 
around her as many friends as there were estates within the 
circumference of ten leagues. Each Seigneur begged her to 
go with him to his home while the inquest was going on. 
From among all these offers, she selected and accepted those 
of the Marshal of the District. His wife and himself owned 
a superb domain, about sixty leagues distant, where chil- 
dren and grandchildren were growing up about them. 

Just as Madame Bagrianof was about to drive away, 
Ieremei brought to his mistress an iron box which had 
been found among the cinders, and which contained the 
lady’s jewels. She wished to reward the old man, but he 
hurried away with enormous strides. A peasant over- 
took him. 

“ What was the use,” said the man, discontentedly, “of 
returning that, as if we did not need it more than she? ” 

“ We are assassins, I know,” growled Ier6mei; “ but we 
are not robbers ! ” 

And he turned his back on the astonished peasant. 

The inquest took place; a careful examination was 
made ; but, naturally, nothing was discovered. 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION* 


135 


CHAPTER XIV* 
feeedomI 

TN the retreat which was thrown open to her, where she 
found so much sympathy, Madame Bagrianof gained 
also peace, and even happiness. Smiling faces, and that 
family union and affection, than which nothing is sweeter 
on this earth ; kind words and loving attentions, of which 
she had been deprived since her youth — all were welcomed 
by her as the parched earth welcomes a gentle shower 
after weeks of fierce heat. 

The child, happy in the society of other children, grew 
and developed wonderfully. 

One day, after having contemplated for some time the 
rosy cheeks and bright eyes of her child, who was hourly 
expanding in the genial atmosphere of her present sur- 
roundings, Madame Bagrianof felt that a certain resolution, 
which had been for a long time ripening in her mind, was 
at last mature. She went to find the marshal, and asked 
him suddenly if she could free her peasantry. 

The marshal looked at her in astonishment. At that 
time few serfs had been enfranchised belonging to private 
individuals. In vain had the government set the example. 
Few people were willing to thus sacrifice their services, 
and relinquish the taxes which made up a large part of 
their income. 


13G 


S AY £ Li’s EXPIATION. 


“ You have already made them a free gift oi their in- 
debtedness to you, my dear friend,” he said, kindly; 
“ that was doing them a great charity. Hemember, that 
you are by no means wealthy.” 

“ I know that,” replied the widow; “but. I wish thus 
to render thanks unto the Lord for the life and health of 
my daughter ; all my other children died when they were 
infants. I always believed that this child would die like 
the others, and I have been amazed at seeing her grow as 
if she were not a Bagrianof. During the time when I, 
each day, felt that I should lose her, I made a vow: I 
believed that my children died because of the sins of their 
father, and I promised that if this one were allowed to 
live, that I would seek in every way to repair the evil he 
had committed. How, then, can I do better than liberate 
those whom he made to suffer?” 

“Very well; but if you relinquish their future taxes — 
if you give them their houses and land, you will have 
very little to live upon. Besides, your daughter is yet a 
minor; you cannot dispose of her share without permission 
from the courts.” 

“I know it,” replied the widow; “but I can give up 
my portion, cede all my rights— and I do so gladly. 
Kemember, that it was a solemn vow, and that my 
daughter has grown and flourished. If I do not keep my 
word, God will surely take my child from me; and if I 
should lose her ! — ” 

The mother’s voice was choked by tears. 

“What do you wish me to do, then? I am ready 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


137 


to obey you,” said the marshal, touched by this tender 
maternal superstition. 

“ I do not know, for I am totally ignorant of business 
matters. Arrange everything as seems best to you. I only 
ask that we shall have the wherewithal to live in the sim- 
plest fashion ; and that the peasants of Bagrianovka shall 
be liberated. I cannot enfranchise those of the other 
villages, for unfortunately they do not belong to me,” she 
added, with a sigh ; “ but, then, they have suffered less 
than those close to us — those who were under the hand 
of—” 

The widow shuddered, and closed her eyes at the recol- 
lection of the horrors which she had been forced to witness. 

“ Think no more of the Past; it is forever gone. I will 
do my best to carry out your wishes,” said the marshal, 
“ since you have fully decided. Give me a power of 
attorney, and you shall have no further trouble.” 

The marshal completed this affair to the entire satis- 
faction of all concerned. One fair summer’s day he went 
to Madame Bagrianof, who sat at work on her embroidery 
upon a bench in the garden, watching her little girl, who 
was playing on the turf near by. The widow at once 
saw that her friend held a paper in his hand ; she tried to 
rise and meet him, but her trembling limbs refused to 
bear her weight. She called her child to her side, and, 
with one arm about her, waited to hear the great news. 

u I congratulate you, madame!” cried the marshal, all 
out of breath. “I congratulate you! Your serfs are 
liberated by yourself — voluntarily. You have done a 
noble deed ! ” 


138 


sav£li’s expiation. 


“ God be praised 1 ” she said, solemnly ; “ now I can 
sleep in peace. My darling ! ” she added, taking her child’s 
hands in hers, “ do you understand ? I have done this 
in fulfilment of a vow made unto the Lord, that He may 
spare you to your mother I that He may permit you to 
grow up a good woman, and serve Him in this world for 
many long years 1 ” 

And the mother’s tears fell in a plentiful shower on the 
fair head of the child cradled on her breast. 

When the news reached Bagrianovka, the surprise was 
so great that every one was for a time incredulous. After 
suffering for so many years, under so heavy a yoke and 
implacable a master, could it be true that these men, after 
wearing chains, were liberated — that they were to go and 
come as they pleased — that they could marry and plant a 
vineyard — that they could establish themselves in trade, 
without asking permission of anyone? It wa3 impossi- 
ble! Such happiness was incredible! By degrees, light 
came to their bewildered minds. 

The priest read to them this act which enfranchised them. 
They heard it with apparent apathy and indifference; 
but after a time one and another began to come to the 
Rectory, to find out something of their rights or their 
duties. 

At the end of some six months they fully appreciated 
the first, and were determined to ignore, as far as in them 
lay, the latter. 

As ungrateful, though not more so, as the majority 
of men, they forgot the privileges, and thought only of 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


139 


the disadvantages of the new condition of things. 
“If my cabin burns down, then it is I who must rebuild 
it!” said one with a shrug of his shoulders. But after all 
they finally decided that they were better off under the 
new regime. 

I6remei alone refused, obstinately, to consider himself 
free. 

“ I do not choose,” he muttered, “ that the lady shall 
give me my liberty ! A man, I suppose, can’t be set free 
unless he chooses ! Well, then, I am not free. I have 
lived a serf — I will die a serf ; and it is not a paper more 
or less which will settle the thing.” 

Saveli thought very differently, and was enchanted to 
find himself at liberty — at liberty to come and go as he 
pleased. The wandering life he led as a peddler was to 
him simply delicious; for the village was too full of 
sorrowful memories to be as yet a pleasant place of abode. 
He applied for a license, therefore — in his real name this 
time — and had his regular route to travel. 

Madame Bagrianof had not returned to Bagrianovka. 
Winter was near at hand — already the storks and cranes 
had taken flight to the south ; when one day there was a 
knock at the door of the marshal’s private room, and 
Madame Bagrianof appeared. 

“ I have come to take leave of you, my friend,” said 
she. “You sheltered us as if we had been two wounded 
birds — you gave us hospitality and love, and with you I 
have spent the happiest days of my life ; but it is now 
time for us to part. Saturday we leave for Moscow.” 



140 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


“What! already?” cried the old man; “if you have 
really determined to leave us, wait at least until spring. 
Why should you spend this winter in a new and unknown 
place ? Remain with us !” 

The widow shook her head sadly. 

“You are too rich,” she said; “we are poor, and we 
must live in poverty all our lives.” 

“ Remain with us, then, and your child shall be as one 
of our own.” 

“That cannot be,” replied Madame Bugrianof. “She 
must not acquire habits which she would find impossible, 
or, at all events difficult, to lay aside, if she marries ; and 
the child will become only too easily accustomed to your 
luxurious life. Later she would suffer if obliged to 
relinquish it, and I cannot see her suffer,” added the 
mother, in a half whisper, as if interceding with some 
invisible enemy. The marshal pressed his lips respect- 
fully on his guest’s hand, and ceased to urge her. 

The following Sunday, the dumbfounded peasants at 
Bagrianovka saw the marshal’s Berlin draw up before 
the church door just before services began, and from the 
carriage stepped out their mistress and her daughter, both 
clad in the deepest mourning. The priest, bearing the 
cross, advanced to receive them, and services began. 

During the prayers the poor peasants, with their eyes 
riveted on the gentle face of the lady, remembered the 
time when the Seigneur sat by her side. Some of them, 
the best among them, felt a certain pity, mingled with 
gratitude, toward her. 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


141 


Mass over, the villagers assembled on the square and 
the staroste appeared, bringing to the mistress bread and 
salt in visible acknowledgment of the great gift she had 
bestowed upon them. At the sight of this tray bearing the 
emblems of wealth and hospitality, tears filled tbe eyes of 
this homeless woman ; she was almost unable to take these 
symbols from the hands which proffered them to her first, 
and then to her daughter. In vain did she struggle to 
speak. At last, with a gesture she pointed to the ruin at 
the end of the avenue, and buried her face in her mantle. 

The sight of this weeping woman softened these 
obdurate and selfish natures, and the women, speedily 
followed by the men, crowded around their mistress with 
words of encouragement, gratitude and benediction ; for 
was she not now about to exile herself, after giving all her 
goods to them, her people? Their kind and tender 
words comforted the aching heart of their poor lady. 

“I am on my way to Moscow, friends,” she said. “You 
are now free. No cruel master can ever again be guilty 
of injustice towards you. Therefore, in memory of your 
enfranchisement, will you not sometimes pray for the 
repose of the soul of your dead Seigneur, and for the life 
of this innocent child?” she added, laying her hand upon 
her daughter’s fair head. 

“ Where is Sav6li ? I wish to see him ; it was he who 
saved our lives.” 

Saveli reluctantly went to her. 

“ I have brought to you this Image of Saint Serge,” 
she said, to him; “you will preserve it in memory of your 


142 


sav£li’s expiation. 


noble act. And now accept my blessing, and that of my 
child.” She made the sign of the cross with the little 
Image over Saveli’s bowed head, while he, deadly pale, 
made no motion to take the gift when she extended it to 
him. 

“Take it,” she said, surprised at his hesitation. 

I6r6mei touched him lightly with his stick, and Saveli 
started, seized the Image, kissed the hand of his bene- 
factress, and hastily retreated to his own cabin, where 
Ier^mei speedily followed him. 

“Fool!” said the old man, “do you wish to ruin us 
all?” 

Saveli shook his head. 

“ I could not help it,” he murmured. “ When I heard 
her speak to me of my noble act, and when she blessed me 
in the name of the orphan — ” 

“ Well, are there not plenty of orphans among us? and 
who is the cause of that?” 

“Yes, I know; but all the same it gave me a great 
shock ! ” 

Ier^mei shrugged his shoulders. 

“If you intended to repent, it would have been better if 
you had let the matter alone ! ” 

“ I do not repent ! ” cried Saveli, with flashing eyes. 
“ I would do the same thing over again ; but the orphan 
Well, they are going away, and I am thankful.” 

“Amen ! ” said the old man, striking his stick upon the 
floor. 


CHAPTER XV. 


CONFESSION IS GOOD FOR TIIE SOUL. 

S INCE the tragic death of his daughter, Iereme'i — at 
no time of a very genial disposition — had become 
doubly morose and unsociable. His meagre form was 
drying up, and looked by degrees as if a strong wind 
would blow it away. One fine morning, therefore, no one 
was surprised to find him lying dead upon his stove in his 
cabin. He was buried, and forgotten. 

Lent was drawing to a close; when, among those who 
came to confession, preparatory to their Easter communion, 
the priest saw Saveli. The preceding year, at the same 
season, he had been away, which solved the difficulty; but 
a true Russian never misses his Christian duties for two 
successive Easters. The young man presented himself with 
an air of assurance, but his hands were nervously clenched, 
and betrayed more emotion than did his face. The priest, 
without appearing to do so intentionally, kept him until 
the others were all gone. 

When they Avere alone in the church, Vladimir An- 
dr6itch rose from his chair, bolted the door, and reseated 
himself. It was growing dark. The lamps before the 
Images and a few candles, vowed by the faithful, but 
poorly lighted the sanctuary. 

“ Kneel,” said the priest to Saveli, who obeyed. 


144 SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 

“ Now begin,” said the confessor, solemnly. 

Sav6li enumerated his various peccadilloes. The priest 
listened without asking a question. Finally the young 
man seemed to have come to an end. 

“And — ” said the servant of the Lord. 

“And ?” stammered Saveli. “There is nothing more ! ” 

“Nothing?” cried the confessor. “Nothing!” he re- 
peated, more sternly. And rising he extended his hand 
toward the young man as if in wrath and malediction. 
“And what of the murder? ” 

“ You know, then ?” Saveli replied, with an angry flash 
of the eyes, which was speedily repressed. 

“God knows all !” answered the priest, reseating him- 
self. “ Relate your crime ; omit no detail — lest the God of 
vengeance strikes you dead at the foot of the altar you pro- 
fane. Covered with blood you dare present yourself here ; 
and dare to lie night and morning before your household 
Images. Tremble, for God Almighty in his wrath has 
punished criminals — guilty of less crimes than you have 
committed — w r ho have dared to enter his holy place with- 
out repentance ! ” 

Sav§li, still on his knees, burst into tears. 

“Ah! yes, it is true — I killed the master ! But you, 
father, know only too well that he deserved it.” 

“Iam the God of vengeance. Vengeance belongs to 
me alone. Thou shalt not kill ! ” 

These three distinct phrases fell on the criminal’s ear 
like three thunder-claps. Then followed a long silence, 
broken only by Saveli’s smothered sobs. 

“ I killed him ! ” he said, at last. “ It is true, I killed 


sav£li’s expiation. 


145 


him. He had robbed me of my F6dotia. I could not 
bear it. My F&lotia — my betrothed ! I had always 
loved her. She was young — she was beautiful. We 
should have been happy together. And — then — I killed 
him — not I alone — but — ” 

“ Tell me nothing of the sins of others. Go on ! ” 

“I killed him, and then we burned the house that no 
one might know of the murder. Forgive me ! pardon 
me ! O God Most High ! ” groaned Saveli, striking the 
ground with his forehead. 

“ Ho you repent, then ? ” asked the priest, severely. 

Saveli lifted his head, looked at the confessor, and hesi- 
tated. 

“ Ho you repent ? ” repeated the priest. 

“No,” said the young man ; "if the same thing were to 
be done again, I would do it.” 

The priest rose to his full height : 

"Miserable sinner,” he said, in a low, deep voice, "you 
set divine mercy at defiance. Repent this day, or fear the 
anger of Heaven. He lies there — he whom you killed — 
there ! ” And the confessor pointed to the stone over the 
vault where the Bagrianofs were interred. “ Ho you not 
fear that he will rise from his grave, and accuse you before 
God?” 

Saveli in horror began again to strike the earth with 
his brow. 

“ Forgive me, Lord,” he cried, making the sign of the 
cross over and over again. “ Pardon my sins, and receive 
me into Thy kingdom.” 

9 


146 


sav£li’s expiation. 


The priest saw that he had not exacted too much — that 
Saveli was trying to repent. Time and advancing years 
would do the rest of the work ; would bring contrition to 
this unsubmissive spirit. He gave absolution to Saveli, 
who thanked him with tears, and walked from the church 
at his side. The darkness was almost palpable. Only a 
dim light before the altar was left burning in the church. 

Saveli, after having said good-night to the priest at the 
door of the Rectory, turned and looked at this light, which 
faintly shone through the grated windows. Bagrianof was 
shut up in that tomb; he could not, in spite of the words 
uttered by the confessor — no — he could not appear and 
accuse him ! But if he should rise and come to him 
with that devilish laugh of his — 

“I should kill him again!” muttered the impenitent, 
through his firmly set teeth. He then crossed himself 
furiously, and went into his cabin. 

When the spring opened, he started forth once more 
with his pack upon his shoulders. This wandering life 
suited him well, but he came back twice each year, and 
passed several weeks in the village. 

During one of these sojourns he married. His business 
was increasing, and a home seemed necessary to him — a 
place where he could store his goods, and thus be enabled 
to profit by favorable opportunities for purchasing. He 
married a village girl, fair and fresh, not over wise per- 
haps, but she suited him. He continued his trade as a 
peddler with such success that in a few years he became one 
of the richest men in the vicinity. He had a number of 


' sav£li’s expiation. 


147 


children, but only one lived : the eldest, a son, whom he 
adored, under an air of severity and almost with a protest 
as it were. 

In the village all had prospered. The priest, whose 
family had increased more rapidly than his revenues, often 
thought that it was a strange thing that such a crime 
should have brought such happiness to Bagrianovka. His 
thoughts dwelt long on the past, on Divine Mercy, and he 
said to himself, that perhaps the murder had been expiated 
in advance, by all that these poor people had borne and 
suffered. 

The owners of the neighboring estates were less anxious 
to encourage commerce than to secure their rents from 
these serfs ; therefore traders of all kinds gradually flocked 
to Bagrianovka ; where, provided they were obedient to the 
laws and customs of the Commune, they were allowed to 
do with their time and their money as they pleased. 

Before long, white bread was plentiful at Bagrianovka ! 
A wineshop displayed its green boughs, and the women 
were learning to make lace. The peasants were happy and 
prosperous, and the old men, when they died, thanked God 
that their children would be better off than they had been. 

Thus years passed away. SavSlFs son grew apace ; one 
fine day his father called him : “ Listen/ ” he said, “ you 
are eight years old, you have been running barefoot in the 
dirt quite long enough ; I choose you to be a man of learn- 
ing, like the Seigneurs. I have money, God be thanked, 
and I will go about with my pack for ten years more, if 
it must be, rather than that you shall have no education. 


148 


sav£li’s expiation. 


They say down below in the great cities, that true nobility 
is education : how that may be I can’t say, but we will try 
it at all events. You shall be stuffed with learning, my 
boy, as you will see ! I did not even learn to read when 
I was a boy — I was quite thirty years old before I knew 
my letters ; but you shall learn all that you can learn for 
money. You will go away with me this very week, my 
boy.” 

“What! you will take my only child?” cried the 
mother, with tears. 

“Be quiet, woman!” replied Saveli, with the authority 
of the head of the house ; “ I choose that our son shall be 
like the Seigneurs in his book-knowledge. I mean, in- 
deed, that he shall be wiser than they, if possible ! There 
— no more — I have said it ! ” 

After a year or two of preparation at a minor school, 
therefore, little Philippe Sav6litch entered a seminary in 
Moscow and soon became one of the best pupils in the 
establishment. 

His father often went to see him. Clothed in his long 
cloth cafetan, and wearing high, stout boots, he stalked 
into the parlor, summoned his son, and with his eyes fixed 
on the report of the year, he cross-examined him in regard 
to all he had learned, without sparing him one single detail. 

He insisted on the child’s replying quickly and suc- 
cinctly; and Saveli’s air, while accomplishing this paternal 
duty, was so absorbed and severe, that Philippe abso- 
lutely reached the age of manhood without the smallest 
suspicion that his father was entirely ignorant of the 


sav£li’s expiation. 


149 


studies and subjects upon which he had so rigidly cate- 
chised his son. 

When Philippe had completed his studies and received 
his gold medal, his father took him home to the country. 
Since the commencement of his studies the young man had 
never been back to the village. Bagrianovka saw a hand- 
some young man of eighteen, tall and slender, as if he had 
grown too fast in a dark cellar, with an intelligent face 
lighted by large, expressive eyes, which spoke too clearly 
perhaps of late vigils and assiduous application to his studies. 

Emancipation had come to all the serfs in Russia; and 
many new ideas had burst into being in the most arid 
brains, consequently young Philippe found himself entirely 
at home in the village as well as in the paternal isba. 

The ten years of his sojourn in Moscow had in no de- 
gree eradicated his rustic tastes and instincts, the growth 
of countless generations. That for which he had vainly 
longed with tears sometimes,. when at twilight on a summer’s 
night he had watched, from the small window of his close 
sleeping-room, the stars coming out one by one, was that 
wide, blue river, on which the moonlight was floating in 
rifts of light, that dense forest with its aromatic pungent 
odor, that hum of bees, that lowing of the cows, that dingy 
cabin, those wooden benches, the frugal fare, that rural 
indifference to externals : all pleased him now as when he 
was a child. 

“ It was useless for my father to try and make a Seig- 
neur of me,” he said to himself one night, as he lay 
vaguely dreaming and looking at the stars. “ I may be a 
savant, but I shall always be a peasant.” 


150 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

CHOOSING A CAREER. 

S AVELI had waited and watched with much anxiety, 
impatient to know what his son would say when he 
returned to his father’s poor home. But as Philippe said 
nothing, he found himself obliged to interrogate him. 

He therefore seated himself on the bench outside the 
door and lighted his pipe, while the youth rolled his 
cigarette. 

“Well!” said the elder man, looking afar off into the 
distance. “ How does our house please you ?” 

“ It is delightful, father, delightful,” answered Philippe, 
smiling; “it is all exactly as it used to be; it seems to 
me that I am a little boy once more, and that I must go 
with the other lads and open the gates for the loaded hay- 
carts coming in from the country ! ” 

“ Do you not think,” said Saveli, after a few moments 
silence, “ that the house is too small and too black, and 
our clothes too coarse and too common?.” 

“Oh, father, how can you suppose such a thing?” 
Saveli smoothed the young man’s sleeve. The jacket, like 
the whole suit, was of a light summer cloth, suitable for a 
young man who has just laid aside his school uniform for 
citizen’s clothing. 

“You,” said the father, “wear clothes made of 


sav£li’s expiation. 


151 


German cloth, -while we are dressed like peasants, or like 
trades-people at the most; my cafetan is old and worn, 
your mother wears a sarafare — does not this disturb 
you ? ” 

“ I beg your pardon, dear father,” answered the young 
man, misunderstanding this question. “ I ought to have 
remembered that these gifts which you have bestowed 
upon me were entirely out of place here : I will only wear 
them in the town in future. With your permission I will, 
to-morrow, put on the shirt and full breeches like the 
village lad that I am,” he added, laughing. 

SavSli frowned to disguise the emotion which he felt, 
and did not speak for a moment, and then said : 

“No, keep your clothes and wear them : that was not what 
I meant. We will talk this matter over again. And now 
what do you wish to make of yourself? Speak frankly 
and honestly to me. I carried my pack a long time after 
we were comfortably otf, that I might give you an educa- 
tion. I am still strong and well, and intend to keep on 
for some time longer. If you wish to go to college, say so 
and you shall go. I will pay all your expenses cheerfully. 
If you decide on any honorable profession, if anything 
especially strikes your fancy, I am satisfied, provided that 
some day it will make a Seigneur of you : that is all I 
ask!” 

Touched by so much kindness and consideration in a 
father whose exterior was so rough, the young man 
respectfully kissed the hard hand which lay on Saveli’s 
knees. 


152 


sav£li ? s expiation. 


"Well, my son, what do you say?” continued the 
peasant, with his impassible manner. 

“I have often thought about this question,” answered 
Philippe; "and I have made up my mind, that with your 
permission, I should like to be a surveyor. I like 
mathematics ; the profession is still, as one may say, in 
its infancy.” 

"Surveyor? Do you mean one of those people who 
measure the fields with stakes, and carry about cups with 
water in them ?” 

" Precisely, my father.” 

" What on earth can you find interesting in such a life 
as that?” answered the father, disdainfully ; "it seems to 
me that it is not necessary to have spent so much time 
over your studies just to measure fields and roads !” 

Philippe had never suspected the ignorance of the 
father, who had always been so strict in the examination 
of his acquirements. He looked now with new respect, 
or at all events with respect which was in no degree 
diminished, upon the man, who, uncultivated as he was, 
had yet been wise enough to watch over his son as he 
had done, with an infinite solicitude which no tutor could 
have shown. What wonderful determination ! What 
extraordinary self-control must his father be possessed of, 
never to have betrayed himself! Philippe felt that he 
loved his father with a tenderness hitherto unsuspected by 
himself; before this time his fear had been stronger than 
his alfection. 

" Well ! ” said Saveli, between two puffs of smoke. 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


153 


“ That is a profession, father, which will lead to almost 
anything. Having obtained a gold medal I can secure a 
position immediately; and continuing my study of mathe- 
matics, I can in time become a savant, possibly a geome- 
trician — ” 

“And you would like it?” interrupted the father, 
struck by the idea that his son could at once obtain a 
position, and consequently be on the road to distinction 
without further delay. 

“Yes, sir, if you have no objection; I should prefer it 
to anything else.” 

Sav6li smoked on in silence for a few moments, which 
seemed to his son very long ones. 

“ So be it ! ” he said, at last ; “ I consent. Tell me 
what I must do, and I will do it ! ” 

The young man arose and prostrated himself at his 
father’s feet, after the custom of his peasant ancestors. 
Saveli was touched by this adherence to old habits. He 
laid down his pipe, blessed his son, and resumed his 
smoking without another word. 

Philippe, in great contentment of mind, wandered down 
the road by the river, and soon found himself close to the 
ruins of the manor house. Poppies and wild oats were 
growing in the brick basement, the seeds of which had 
been borne there by the winds; young, slender birches 
had found a place for their roots in the cracks, and were 
gradually pushing the calcined stones still further apart; 
while the soft evening breeze was blowing through this 
undergrowth with a gentle, rustling murmur. 


154 


sav£li’s expiation. 


The young man felt an emotion of pity for those who 
had once lived in that ruined home. The dreary tales of 
Bagrianof’s reign had left no impression upon his memory, 
even if as a child he had ever heard them. He remembered 
only one thing, and that but vaguely — an account of the 
Lady and her little girl being saved from the flames by a 
peasant; it seemed to him, too, that this peasant was named 
Saveli. Could this man have been his father? He deter- 
mined to ask him. 

As he made the circuit of the ruin, he saw the priest a 
little way off. He ran to meet him. Father Vladimir 
was now a gray-bearded man; silvery hairs were mingling 
in his chestnut locks; age had slightly bowed his tall frame, 
but his eye was still keen and quick. 

The sudden appearance of the young man aroused him 
from deep thought, and he greeted Philippe with a warm 
pressure of the hand and a smile that was twenty years 
younger than his face. 

“ Where were you?” he said. “I did not see you 
coming.” 

“ No, because I was behind this ruin. I was examining: 
it,” answered the youth. “ I went from here when I was 
so very young that I never heard its story. Was it not 
my father who saved the lives of those ladies?” 

The priest looked at Philippe with profound pity and 
surprise. 

" It was your father,” he answered, slowly, " with the 
assistance of an old servant named Timothy.” 

" What has become of this ‘Timothy? I should like to 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


155 


hear his account of the part my father played that night. 
Do you know how kind and good my father is? I cannot 
imagine why I ever thought him harsh and severe!” 

“Timothy is dead,” answered Father Vladimir, turning 
away toward the Rectory. 

The young man took him gently by the arm, and urged 
him to go back to the ruin. The priest hesitated for a 
moment, and then let the boy have his will. 

“ It is unfortunate that Timothy should be dead,” con- 
tinued Philippe, still lingering over the wish he had sud- 
denly formed. “But you can tell me what my father 
did, can you not? You were here at the time, I believe.” 

“Yes, I was here,” answered the priest, mechanically. 

“Tell me about it, then, I beg of you,” urged the 
youth. 

They walked around the ruin. Father Vladimir 
stopped at the corner toward the right — the corner nearest 
the river. 

“It was here,” he said, slowly, “that he, having 
rescued the Lady and the child, went back into the flames 
a third time to save Timothy.” 

“My father did that!” cried Philippe, enraptured. 
“He returned three times into those flames! Why, 
Father Vladimir, he is a hero!” The priest gave an 
affirmative sign. “And how modest he is, too!” burst 
out Philippe, after a short silence. “He never alluded 
to it to me, and now I intend to surprise him. I will say 
to him — ” 

“Say nothing,” said the priest, laying his hand on the 


156 


S AY £ LI*S EXPIATION. 


young man’s shoulder. “ Never say one word to him 
about that night. He never liked to remember those days 
when he was a serf. Take care that you do not hurt him 
by speaking of them to him.” 

“I do not understand,” said Philippe, disturbed, and 
feeling somewhat aggrieved. 

The priest hesitated. His position, was most assuredly 
a difficult one. He nevertheless continued : 

“ The last Seigneur Bagrianof was a thoroughly bad 
man. Your father especially had much to suffer from his 
barbarous cruelty ; you would therefore give him infinite 
pain by allowing him to suppose that you had heard 
anything — ” 

“ What!” interrupted the youth, “am I never to tell 
him how much I admire his noble conduct? I worship 
my father ! ” 

“Love your father, my child,” said the priest, in a sad 
voice. “ His children’s affection is a crown upon an old 
man’s head.” 

During the days which ensued, Philippe found it almost 
impossible to contain himself. Twenty times he was on 
the point of speaking in spite of the priest’s prohibition. 
He looked at his father with eyes so full of tenderness and 
pride that Saveli said to himself : 

“How happy he is that I allow him to do just as he 
pleases ! ” 

The young man broached the subject to his mother, who 
earnestly entreated him to obey the injunction of Father 
Vladimir. 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


157 


Once, just after she was married, she had attempted to 
speak to her husband of the old Seigneur, and of the fire, 
and trembled still when she recalled the terrible anger she 
had then unwittingly aroused. Philippe therefore kept 
to himself all the enthusiastic admiration of his eighteen 
years. 

Soon after this the young man left the village, and six 
months later was deep in the abstract delights of mathe- 
matics. 


158 


sav£li’s expiation 


CHAPTER XVII. 


A NEW HOME AND A NEW CHARACTER. 
HE spring which followed was a memorable epoch in 



~L the annals of Bagrianovka. Sav6li was building a 
new house. One fine day the village was petrified with 
amazement at witnessing the arrival of workmen from the 
city, who went to work with extraordinary diligence; 
chimneys appeared to grow almost like mushrooms within 
a night, and in a few weeks a large house, almost manorial 
in its dimensions and appearance, with a high brick 
foundation, with wide steps upon the front and a high 
balcony at the back, rose by the river side. 

When the young surveyor came back to his home for 
his six weeks’ vacation, he was astonished to find his 
father waiting for him about a quarter of a league from 
the village. For the three previous days Saveli had 
seated himself in that same spot in expectation of his son’s 
arrival, wishing to disclose to him himself, the great secret 
of this new house. He therefore climbed into the t§l£gue 
in which the young man rode, and bade the coachman 
take the road by the river. 

Philippe could not believe his eyes when he beheld his 
mother standing on the steps of this new and stately man- 
sion. Her costume was equally astonishing, being dressed 
in German style, in a Moscovite silk and with a douchag- 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


159 


reika or cloak of quilted damask wrapped around her ; in- 
stead of the peasant’s kerchief on her head she wore a silk 
turban. 

“ Look ! ” said Sav6li, w r hen his son entered the fine 
dining-room where the samovar of red copper smoked on 
a table covered with superb damask, spun in the village 
from designs which were so ancient that no one knew 
whence they came. “ Look ! this is the home I have 
built for you. You will be a Seigneur ; a handsome house 
is necessary for you. Your mother is dressed like a lady, 
and she can do as she chooses. I, however, shall still 
wear my cafetan ; you, my son, will be lodged like any 
lord in the land. Look ! ” he added, opening the door of 
a bedroom superbly furnished in European fashion. 

Philippe was absolutely too astonished to speak; his 
father watched him with his usual impassive air, his 
delight betraying itself only in a certain twinkle about the 
eyes. 

1 It is all too handsome, father ! ” exclaimed the young 
man, “ altogether too handsome! And you have done all 
this for me? You have left the dear little isba f ” 

“You liked it, then?” said the father, in a gratified 
voice. 

“Do you ask if I liked it? Are you serious? I 
adored it. And you have done all this for me?” 

“It is all for you when you become a Seigneur; only 
you must marry a Demoiselle, not a peasant,” answered 
Sav6li. 

The young man was much moved by this evidence of 


160 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


affection. He knew that his mother was uncomfortable in 
the unwonted splendor she had assumed to do honor to 
her son ; he understood that each cent expended in the 
construction of this house had been amassed by the peddler 
by dint of long and weary journeys through drifting snow 
and drenching rain, or under a blazing July sun. 

“You are then very rich, father?” said Philippe, 
involuntarily. 

“You will have something, my lad, besides this house, 
after I am gone !” answered Saveli, lighting his unfailing 
companion — his locust-tree pipe. “ I shall take no more 
long journeys : they begin to weary me. I am going to 
sell butter and wheat. I have made acquaintance with 
certain merchants in Moscow, and intend to collect these 
things in this neighborhood and send them there. Plave 
you heard in the city of something that is to be done here 
soon ?” 

“No, father, I think not,” answered Philippe, with 
some hesitation. “Ah ! yes, I remember I heard that the 
new railroad was coming very near here, that the bridge 
would be thrown across the river only two miles below.” 

Saveli winked. “ Well, you had best say nothing about 
it in the village ; they are silly enough not to like rail- 
roads, and it is not worth while to contradict them. When 
it is done, they will get used to it and think no more 
about it. There will be a station, of course?” 

“ I really do not know,” said the young man. 

“Well, try and find out. I think myself there will be 
a station here. There ought to be. Bagrianovka is quite a 


sav£li’s expiation. 


161 


large village now. It was such a miserable place once,” 
added Sav6li, in so low a tone that he seemed to be talk- 
ing to himself. 

“Do you mean in Bagrianof’s time?” 

Saveli looked at his son with an air of displeasure, 
through which pierced a certain anxiety. 

“Yes, in Bagrianof’s time,” he repeated, slowly, when 
he met Philippe’s frank eyes. 

The youth dared go no further, and Sav6li said no more 
at that time of his new projects. He did not tell his son 
that he had made enormous contracts with the peasantry 
throughout the district for their entire agricultural pro- 
ducts. The building of a railroad to Bagrianovka would, 
in consequence, make him one of the wealthiest merchants 
outside of Moscow. 

Saveli went to Moscow with his son, and worked so 
hard and with such success that Philippe was employed 
by the company upon that part of the work which 
approached his village; and the station, in regard to which 
Sav6li was so anxious, was granted at once on the faith of 
the excellent reasons which he advanced. 

Toward the end of winter, while they were laying the 
tracks, other startling news reached Bagrianovka: their 
old mistress was coming thither. The railroad company 
had taken a portion of her land, and she was coming to 
find out for herself what they were doing. As she had no 
asylum, no place open to receive her, she had ordered a 
small frame house therefore to be built for her at once, on 
the spot which had once been her garden ; the windows 
10 


362 sav£li’s expiation. 

looked across the river, and a path was made between her 
new home and the stream — a path which carefully avoided 
the ruins. This simple house was built of round logs, and 
was very much smaller and far less elegant than that of 
the former peddler. 

At the beginning of the summer the inhabitants of 
Bagrianovka saw a boat come down the river and stop at 
the recently built wharf, at the foot of the garden. The 
water was so high that it was with great difficulty that the 
furniture with which the boat was laden was got on shore; 
a quantity of rare plants, cacti, rosebushes, myrtles and 
laurels, followed the furniture, and made the small salon 
radiant; then several days later an old caliche deposited 
on the lawn Madame Bagrianof and a very young girl. 

Madame Bagrianof had changed very little in the 
twenty- four years which had elapsed since her people had 
last seen her. Her eyes were less bright perhaps, and her 
hair was now white, but the sweet face wore the same look 
of resignation and weariness that had been familiar to 
them all, years before. 

Life had not been over-merciful to her. After some 
years of peace spent in watching over her daughter’s edu- 
cation, a new sorrow came to her. A young officer in the 
army— a distant relative^ — who came often to the house, 
fell desperately in love with Marie; the girl returned this 
love, and the mother, with tears, gave her consent to the 
marriage. Eighteen months later the poor young wife 
died, leaving to her desolated mother an infant three 
months old — a frail little girl, whom no one thought could 
possibly live a week. 


sav^li’s expiation. 163 

It was to prolong this life — -just trembling in the bal- 
ance — that Madame Bagrianof laid aside her own grief 
and took up the battle of life once more. She was a 
grandmother, as she had been a mother, with all the 
energy of a strong and unselfish nature, and she forgot to 
weep for the daughter she had lost in guarding the child 
this beloved daughter had bequeathed to her. 

It was not until little Catherine, outliving all her child- 
ish maladies, was the picture of health, with her cheeks 
tinged with a blush like the petals of a wild rose, while 
her eyes were full of mischievous delight, that Madame 
Bagrianof had time to dwell long on all she had herself 
lost. The perpetual heartache she felt left its traces of 
melancholy in her voice and face, so that the child insen- 
sibly acquired the habit of laughing more softly and play- 
ing more gently in the presence of this grandmother — so 
sweet and resigned. 

Catherine had, therefore, from this dear grandmother 
acquired a great serenity of manner and infinite gentleness 
of voice, which distinguishing characteristics were calcu- 
lated to lead a stranger to believe that she was sad. It 
was something like the gray tone of the atmosphere on an 
autumnal evening after a glorious sunny day, when thick 
mists rise from the ground. She grew and developed in 
mind and body with extraordinary vigor; all domestic 
virtues seemed part of her nature, while her love for her 
father amounted to absolute adoration. She rarely saw 
him, for his regimental duties allowed him no more than 
ten days’ vacation, and these scattered through the year, 


fL 


164 SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 

when he hurried to kiss the little daughter who loved him 
so dearly. 

She was just fifteen when she came to Bagrianovka 
with her grandmother. She was petite in form, but 
daintily made, while her hands were by no means as white 
as they should have been, for they were always at work, 
while her busy little feet moved noiselessly about the house 
all day long, doing first one thing and then another; the 
plants were her especial care, and her first thought on her. 
arrival was to ask if they were safe. 

The priest stood on the threshold to welcome Madame 
Bagrianof to her abode. When she saw him the poor 
woman could not restrain her tears ; she greeted him with 
affection, which he as cordially returned. 

The wife of the priest, surrounded by a half-dozen chil- 
dren of all ages, came forward at once, and together they 
entered the dining-room in search of tea. 

“ See ! grandma,” cried Catherine ; “ they are all here. 
Only one cactus died on the journey, and Father Vladimir, 
who saw them when they came, says it died from too 
much water!” 

“I see that Father Vladimir and you have become 
excellent friends,” answered Madame Bagrianof, with a 
smile; and then with a sigh she added, “and how many 
sad recollections come to me on seeing you ! ” 

“ Think no more of the past,” he answered, kindly ; 
“think only of the youthful heart that is expanding 
before you ! ” 

Madame Bagrianof dried her eyes and looked at her 




SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 165 

grandchild. The long windows were thrown widely 
open, allowing the delicious odors from the garden to steal 
in. The grass, too, in the meadow had been just mown, 
and the odor was delicious. A gleam of sunshine pene- 
trating the shady avenue fell on Catherine leaning over a 
fuchsia in full bloom. Her fair hair, a little curling 
over her forehead and on her neck behind, looked like 
a golden haze about her head. Her long, silken lashes 
lay in a graceful curve upon her cheeks. Her rosy 
lips, half open like a rose-bud, smiled sweetly on her 
idolized plants. Herself a flower but half expanded, 
Catherine resembled a blushing wild rose. 

“She is a great joy to me!” murmured the grand- 
mother. 

“She is pretty ! ” answered the priest, gently; “and she 
looks good ! ” 

“ Yes, she is a thoroughly good child. Ah ! my poor 
eyes ! Do you know that I can hardly see at all, only as 
through a thick veil!” and the Lady sighed sadly. “I 
shall be blind.” 

“ No, do not think of such a thing : it will not amount 
to that. God will have compassion upon you. And have 
you not your granddaughter’s eyes?” 

Madame Bagrianof shook her head. Catherine saw 
that she was sad and came running toward her. Standing 
behind her she threw her arms around her grandmother’s 
neck and said : 

“It is pretty here, and we shall be perfectly happy, 
grandmother, shall we not?” and then the girl, sitting 
close to her grandmother, began to pour out tea. 


166 


sav^li’s expiation. 




CHAPTER, XVIII. 

love’s young dream. 

TTAOWARD the end of July, Philippe came to visit his 
-L parents. His father was away; he had left the 
village almost immediately after the arrival of Madame 
Bagrianof’s furniture, under pretext of important business, 
but in reality, that he might postpone as long as possible, 
meeting the widow face to face. 

The youth went to find the priest the very day he came 
home. Vladimir had always been a sympathetic friend 
to the young man, and in spite of the difference in their 
ages and pursuits, they were in the habit of talking with 
much freedom to each other. 

As he stood at the window in the priest’s house, Philippe 
saw Catherine in the avenue. She was dressed in the 
simplest fashion in white; on her arm hung a broad- 
brimmed hat, full of wild flowers, which she had just 
gathered in the woods and meadows. 

“ Is that Madame Bagrianof’s granddaughter ? ” asked 
the youth. 

“ Yes,” replied the priest. 

“ Is she pretty ? ” said Philippe, with a faint flutter at 
his heart. 

Around this young girl, returning to the land of her 
forefathers so long after the catastrophe which had exiled 


sav£li’s expiation. 


167 




her family, hung a vague atmosphere of romance which 
delighted him with its air of mystery. 

“She is not only pretty,” replied Father Vladimir, 
“ but she is good.” 

“ How old is she?” 

“A little more than fifteen, I should judge,” and the 
priest relapsed into silent thought, 

The rays of the sun became more and more level, and 
the earth seemed covered with a golden cloud. Alleging 
great fatigue, Philippe took an abrupt leave of Father 
Vladimir and started on his return to his father’s house. 
But when he reached the end of the avenue and was cer- 
tain that he could not be again seen by the priest, he took 
the path by the river which wound around the Lady’s 
garden. He walked slowly, his eyes apparently riveted 
to the ground, but in reality from out their corners he 
was carefully scrutinizing this new house whose windows 
were filled with growing plants. 

“ Grandmother,” said Catherine, “ I see a young man 
going along the path.” 

“A peasant?” answered Madame Bagrianof, indul- 
gently. 

“ Oh, no, a young man from the city, evidently.” 

“ Oh ! to be sure,” replied the grandmother. “ It is 
Saveli’s son. He is a surveyor, and is said to be well 
educated. Call him here, child.” 

Philippe walked on slowly; he had heard Catherine’s 
question, but her grandmother’s reply had not reached his 
ears. The young girl’s head reappeared at the window. 




1 G8 


sav£li’s expiation 


“ Monsieur ! " she cried. 

Philippe stopped and looked around. At the sight of 
this bright, intelligent face, of those superb eyes turned 
full upon her, Catherine lost her self-possession. 

“I will go and bring him in !" she said, as she ran 
swiftly from the house. 

She readied the hedge which divided the garden from 
the path. Philippe was -waiting for her. When she 
reached him she stopped to draw a long breath ; her white 
dress fell from her hands and lay in rifts on the gravel- 
walk. 

“ Monsieur," she said, “are you Saveli’s son ?" 

She stopped. To call thus unceremoniously by his 
Christian name the father of such a handsome young 
man, was a little difficult, but she was not one to hesitate 
long. 

“Philippe Savditch Petrof is my name, Mademoiselle," 
answered the young man, with a profound bow. 

“My grandmother wishes to see you," she said, timidly. 

Philippe bowed again and turned toward the garden 
gate. The sun had set; the river flowed on with* a soft, 
continuous murmur. Above, the sky was clear, while below, 
along the horizon hung fleecy clouds. The last linden 
blossoms sent forth their faint, sweet fragrance. A belated 
bee buzzed hastily past the young people, who walked up 
the garden-path in embarrassed silence. 

Philippe had never been so near to any other woman 
except his mother. And never before had Catherine felt 
any embarrassment in the society of a young man. 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


169 


“ Your father saved my mother’s and my grandmother’s 
life,” said Catherine, delighted to have something pleasant 
to say to this youth. 

“How did you know that?” asked Philippe, now 
entirely at his ease. 

“ Grandma tells me about it nearly every day. I knew 
it as soon as I knew my own name,” she answered, with a 
gay, little laugh. “Come, quick! grandma, here he is!” 
she exclaimed, with an air of triumph, as they entered the 
house. 

When her dim eyes fell on the young man’s tall figure, 
Madame Bagrianof hesitated. “ Saveli ? ” she said, slowly. 

“ Yo, madame. Philippe Savelitch.” 

“How like you are to your father!” she exclaimed. 
“ Is he away ? I have not seen him since my return, and I 
owe him my life. I have not forgotten it, I assure you. 
Come here, my child, and receive the blessing of a grateful 
old woman.” 

Philippe knelt, and on his head were laid the Lady’s 
trembling hands. 

“Sit there,”- she continued, “and let us talk of your 
father.” 

Philippe asked nothing better; and Madame Bagrianof 
listened with interest to the account of Saveli’s wealth and 
industry, and to the manner in which he had brought up 
and educated his son. She, with the two young people, 
wondered at and praised this unwearied, indefatigable, 
and disinterested paternal devotion, and smiled benevo- 
lently upon the enthusiastic exclamations of Catherine, 


170 s a y^li’b expiation* 

and on the ardent affection for his father expressed by the 
young man. 

The room was growing dark. Catherine lighted two 
candles behind her grandmother, who did not like to have 
them shining upon her eyes ; and then, with much order 
and method, arranged the tea-tray, and in a few moments 
Philippe found himself accepting bread and salt under 
Madame Bagrianof’s roof. 

The Lady prided herself on having no aristocratic preju- 
dices — none, at all events, which were apparent; but had 
any one said to her that Philippe, by force of education, 
was as good as a Bagrianof, she would have been im- 
measurably astonished, and would have felt profound pity 
for the speaker; but she had not the smallest repugnance 
in admitting to her table a peasant’s son, provided that 
peasant had saved her life. 

Besides, this young man was well educated, fie spoke 
French better than Catherine. Poor Catherine had never 
been wealthy enough to have a French governess. And 
about him was no trace of the Russian peasant. It was 
really necessary to make an effort to recall his origin, and 
Madame Bagrianof did not make this effort. 

Philippe had all the new books and papers, and speedily 
acquired the habit of coming in the evening to read 
aloud to Madame Bagrianof. In the beginning it was 
Catherine who read ; but one day, when she was suffering 
from a severe cold, Philippe offered to take her place; and 
from that moment Madame Bagrianof would listen to no 
other person. 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION, 


171 


<{ He reads a hundred times better than you,” she said 
to her granddaughter, “ Listen to him, and try to 
improve.” 

And Catherine listened. The needlework she invariably 
held in her fingers at the beginning, soon fell from her 
hands. With her elbow upon the table and her cheek 
resting on her hand, she listened to the young man. Very 
soon she ceased to distinguish the words. This rich, 
sonorous voice was full of music to her ears, and the slight 
Russian accent— the lingering on certain syllables — added 
to the charm. The termination of the article, or her 
grandmother’s voice, would awake her from her dream. 
She returned then to life, and, with a timid smile toward 
the young man, apologized for her preoccupation. At 
night again, to lull herself to sleep, she endeavored to 
recall the subject of the article he had read aloud, but it 
was impossible for her to remember one word ; all was 
drowned in the confused melody of that voice, and in her 
sleep she continued the dreams of the evening. 

Philippe, in his turn, carried away with him the remem- 
brance of that pure, sweet face, of those large, attentive 
eves, of that fleeting smile, and timid grace, with which she 
met his eyes. He felt that life began for him only at 
night, when, near the grandmother’s arm-chair, he could 
look at Catherine, seated at the table, with her dainty 
work-basket at her side. 

It was with a great wrench that he made up his mind 
that he must go back to his work. Under pretext of it 
being necessary to see his father, he lingered yet a day or 


172 SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 

two longer, and then another day to finish a book that he 
had begun to read to Madame Bagrianof. 

When the book wks finished, when the tea-tray had disap- 
peared, when the cuckoo clock struck nine, Philippe felt 
that his hour had come, and with evident reluctance he 
rose to take leave of his hostesses. 

“ Your father, I trust, will come and see us sometimes, 
now that you have deserted us,” said Madame Bagrianof. 
“Tell him that I have never forgotten my debt of grati- 
tude to him ; tell him that I admire him for all that he 
has done for you. Your father is a most remarkable man. 
Say this to him, will you ? ” 

Philippe hesitated. Catherine thought that she had 
best withdraw. Madame Bagrianof repeated her question. 

“Excuse me,” said Philippe, much embarrassed, “but 
I cannot say this to him. I have been told that my 
father’s recollections of the old regime were intensely 
painful j and it is for that reason that he has forbidden 
any allusion to be made to him to the past.” 

“And to that noble act of his which saved our lives ?” 

“ More particularly to that act,” answered the young 
man. “Those who know him well, and my mother also, 
have implored me never to speak to him of those days. 
I have never had the great pleasure of saying to him how 
much I admire him,” added Philippe, much agitated, as 
he touched on this regret of his life. 

Madame Bagrianof was silent. 

“ I understand all this,” she said, at last. “ My hus- 
band was guilty of great injustice, of great wrongs toward 


sav£li’s expiation. 


173 


your father, greater than you can possibly imagine. God 
pardons sometimes,” she added, with a tinge of bitterness 
marring the melody of her sweet voice, “ but men, I some- 
times think, never forgive! I thank you, young man, for 
not taking up your father’s enmities,” she added, with a 
little haughtiness in her manner. 

“ Forgive me, madame,” stammered Philippe. “I had 
no intention of giving offence.” 

“ I understand, my friend,” replied Madame Bagrianof, 
kindly, having conquered her momentary anger. “You 
did well to speak frankly. I will never insist on your 
father’s crossing the threshold of my house; but you, who 
have not similar reasons, you — ” 

“ I shall consider myself only too happy, if you do not 
banish me,” said Philippe, in French. 

Madame Bagrianof was so charmed by the beauty of the 
accent and the elegance with which he spoke these words, 
that she extended her hand with a cordial smile. 

Philippe left the house, sad at heart that he had not 
been able to say farewell to Catherine. He found her 
seated on the turf however, just below the ruined wall. 

She was waiting for him, sad, and angry with herself 
that she could not impute her sadness to any other cause 
than the departure of the young man, whom she had 
known for so brief a time. 

She rose to her feet as she saw Philippe approaching. 
It was very dark ; but the sky was clear, and the stars 
were bright. The young girl was wrapped in a shawl, 
which she had thrown over her head after the manner of 
Russian servants. 


174 


sav£li ? s expiation. 




“ Farewell, Catherine Ivanovna ! ” he said, with a pro- 
found bow. 

“ You know rae then in the .darkness,” she said, with a 
thrill of joy. 

“ Most assuredly. Is there any one in the world like 
you?” 

Catherine colored ; but the darkness gave her courage. 

“ I went away,-” she said, “ because I thought there was 
some secret.” 

“No, there was no secret. But the past was a cruel 
time for us. And we peasants, you know, are an unfor- 
giving race. My father has some grudge against your 
grandfather, and — ” 

“ We peasants ! ” repeated Catherine, in astonishment. 

Then reflecting for a moment : 

“ It is true ! ” she added, sadly. 

“What?” 

“ That you are not of a noble race.” 

“ It is true ! And I am not ashamed of it. I am 
heartily proud of my father.” 

“And with reason ! ” cried Catherine, with enthusiasm. 
“ We are, therefore, of antagonistic races,” she added, with 
a pretty smile, as she rested her hands on the brick wall of 
the ruin, whereon wild flowers rustled in the night breeze. 

“There are no more races, Catherine Ivanovna ; there 
are only men and brothers, who should love each other, 
arid live in harmony one with another,” said the young 
man, in a low, solemn voice. “Farewell, until next 


say is h I * s expiation. 175 

“ Until next year ! ” repeated the girl, sadly, as her head 
drooped. 

Suddenly she disengaged her hand from the folds of her 
shawl and extended it toward the young man. Philippe 
took it and held it firmly in both his own — he was 
tempted to press his lips upon it, but he did not dare— 
and stood still, unwilling to risk breaking the charm. 

“No,” he repeated, “we are not of antagonistic races. 
Farewell ! may you be happy ! ” 

He dropped the girl’s hand, and slowly turned away. 

“Hid you say farewell to Philippe?” said Madame 
Bagrianof, when Catherine went in. 

“Yes, grandmother, I met him as he was going away,” 
said the girl. “I am very tired : may I retire?” 

“ Go, my darling ! ” answered the old lady. 

Catherine embraced her, and took refuge in her own 
room. 

She dismissed her maid, and threw herself upon the bed. 
The teal’s that she had restrained until now, burst their 
bounds ; she wept without knowing why ; but soon sleep 
came, and with it the sweet tones of the absent voice. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


CATHERINE BAGEIANOF, 

P HILIPPE found his father comfortably established 
in town, and apparently in no haste to return home. 
“ You have seen the ladies?” asked Savtdi. 

“Yes, father.” 

“ Did they receive you kindly ?” 

“ Most kindly,” replied the young man, warmly. 

“That is well. That is no more than they ought to 
do!” answered Saveli, thinking of the' good manners, 
morals, and education of his son, who in his turn attrib- 
uted these words to the consciousness felt by the peddler 
of having rendered so great a service. 

Never had Philippe been so near disclosing to his father 
the intense admiration he felt for him. The slightest word, 
look, or gesture of Saveli’s would have untied his son’s 
tongue ; but as neither word, look, nor gesture were there, 
the young man was still silent. And Sav6li, not long 
afterward, returned to the village. 

Life for Philippe had lost all its charm, and only math- 
ematics had any attraction for him. To this study he now 
applied himself with vigor and industry. 

Winter came on. At Christmas, Philippe was seized 
with an unconquerable longing. Impelled as he really 
believed by a strong desire to see his father, from whom 




sav£li’s expiation. 177 

lie had been separated almost entirely for a year, but in 
reality by another attraction, he started off for the village. 

As soon as he had paid his respects to his father lie 
went to see the priest. 

“And the ladies : are you not going to call upon them ? ” 

“ Certainly, sir, if you have no objection,” replied the 
young man, coloring deeply. 

“Go, then, of course! It is well that they should see 
that you know how to live like a Seigneur.” 

Happy in this permission, Philippe ran in haste to 
Madame Bagrianof. He found no one to announce him ; 
with some hesitation he was about to turn the handle 
when he heard a light step, and the door was suddenly 
opened. A little startled cry, and Catherine rushed back 
into the room, which he could now see wearing the same 
peaceful aspect as of yore — the windows full of blooming 
plants, the white curtains carefully drawn aside, and the 
Lady’s chair near the window. He walked in. 

“It is you, then! Philippe Savelitch,” said Catherine, 
in a sweeter, richer voice than he had ever heard from her 
before. “You startled me. Come in! We were speaking 
of you not an hour ago.” 

The young man obeyed and paid his respects to 
Madame Bagrianof, and then turned toward the young 
girl ; she was no longer there; she had disappeared, but in 
five minutes, which seemed to him a century, she returned 
with a blue ribbon in her hair and knots of blue ribbon 
upon her gray dress. She had made these additions to 
her toilette in honor of her unexpected guest. 

11 


378 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 




In beholding her once more, a great peace settled down 
upon Philippe. All the asperities of life vanished ; he 
saw only this harmonious interior, so pleasant to the eye, 
so filled with tender recollections — where Catherine’s 
sunny face seemed to have attracted to itself all the light 
in the room. He felt himself all at once joyous and full 
of confidence ; his gayety even infected the grandmother, 
who smiled, and almost laughed, more than once. Cath- 
erine, in her turn, was as light-hearted as a bird, and the 
house was filled with merry sounds. 

“How long will you stay?” said Madame Bagrianof. 

Catherine ceased to smile, a light cloud of anxiety rested 
on her face, and she leaned slightly forward, awaiting the 
reply. 

“ Only a week,” answered Philippe. 

“ Only a week ! ” repeated Catherine. “ That is a very 
short time. Shall you come and read to us?” 

“ Most certainly,” answered the young man ; then 
thinking of his father, he added more timidly, “ I will 
try.” 

“ But you must come ! ” insisted Catherine. “ Grandma 
says that I read much better than I did, but that I am 
still far inferior to you.” 

That same evening Saveli, as was his custom, retired 
very early, and Philippe immediately hurried to Madame 
Bagrianof’s. 

The huge porcelain stove filled the room with spring- 
like warmth. Catherine was moving lightly to and fro, 
on household cares intent; everything was unchanged, 


SAVELI* S EXPIATION. 


179 


and Philippe felt that he loved this simple home with his 
whole heart. 

“ I shall read first to-night,” said Catherine, dropping 
on a chair by the young man’s side, like a linnet momen- 
tarily alighting on a branch. “ You will tell me frankly 
if I have made any progress, and then you will read in 
your turn.” 

She began. Philippe could hardly believe his ears; 
she had adopted his manner of reading, even to the most 
minute details. He listened and wondered, not daring to 
ask himself the cause of this subtile compliment. 

“ How is that?” asked Catherine, laying down the book 
at the end of the chapter, and looking at Philippe with the 
earnestness of a school-girl, eager for commendation. 

Suddenly the expression of her eyes changed, her eyelids 
quivered and fell. The school-girl — the pupil — had given 
place to the woman. % 

“It is very well,” said the young man, not knowing in 
the least what words fell from his lips. “ You read well — 
precisely as I do.” 

Madame Bagrianof laughed at this naivete, and the 
young people imitated her. 

The week passed away like one long happy dream. 
Philippe departed at last, without having seen Catherine 
for one moment alone. And he went away dissatisfied 
with her, with himself and with all the world. 


180 


sav£li’s expiation 


CHAPTER XX. 


THE FIRST KISS. 


IXTEEN months elapsed before Philippe could again 



KvJ/ return to his home. He kissed his mother, and 
immediately rushed to the Bagrianofs. The lilac bushes 
had grown enormously, as had Catherine’s roses. The 
ruin, hd noticed, as he made the short cut past it, was 
more and more covered by growing things. A birch, 
which two years before had been so small, now waved its 
feathery branches ten feet above the brick basement, and 
grass had grown over all the unsightly debris. 

Philippe looked about, endeavoring to recall the old 
appearance of the places which were so inexplicably 
changed. 

Behind the house, on the side nearest the old house, was 
a little acacia grove and other trees quick in growth, and 
here Catherine had ordered a bench to be placed ; and here 
it was, during the long hours when her wearied, feeble 
grandmother repaired her strength by sleep, that Catherine 
came with her book and work-basket. The ruin was to 
her full of attractive mystery ; it was an enigma which, 
with her eyes riveted upon it sometimes for an hour 
together, she sought to solve. 

She knew that her grandfather had there perished in 
the flames ; she knew that Philippe’s father had saved her 


sav£li’s expiation. 


181 


mother and grandmother’s lives that same night. Here 
the story ended, but Catherine was by no means satisfied 
with these barren details. 

How, and why, had this fire taken place in the home 
of her ancestors? Why had her grandfather been so rich, 
and his descendants so poor? All these questions floated 
through Catherine’s mind, and served to prevent her from 
thinking too much of “ that young man, who is nothing to 
me,” as she said to herself with melancholy reiteration. Shb 
was seated in the young acacia grove, when she saw Philippe 
coming up the avenue. Her heart seemed to make one 
violent leap to her throat — she turned pale — her joy, 
in fact, was so great that she felt ill. Her first move- 
ment was to start to her feet; but she reseated herself 
almost immediately — a little to keep up appearances, and 
more because she was trembling too violently to stand. 

Philippe had caught a gleam of her light dress through 
the trees; he hurried to greet her, and stood before her in 
embarrassed silence. 

How wonderfully she had grown ! How dignified and 
beautiful she was ! He endeavored to address her with the 
carelessness of other days, but the attempt was a failure. 

“ Good-morning, Mademoiselle,” he murmured. 

“ Good-morning,” she answered, with stately reserve. 
In a moment she added, impulsively, “Ah ! how long it is 
since — ” and then stopped involuntarily. “Grandma is 
asleep, but she will be awake before long, and I will go 
presently and see if she wants anything. Sit here;” and 
the girl pushed aside her work, and made room for the 


182 SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 

young man at her side. In five minutes more the two had 
forgotten their long separation. 

From this day henceforth Philippe came each afternoon 
to join Catherine in her acacia grove. The grandmother 
slumbered, overcome by the heat of the day; the whole 
house slumbered under the warm, June sunshine; the 
clover was blossoming and filling the air with its pene- 
trating sweetness; the birds sang in full-throated triumph, 
and Catherine listened to Philippe, who talked to her of 
many things at first, of himself next, and finally of 
nothing. Silence reigned as within a deserted church ; 
and Catherine, bending over her work, listened to what 
Philippe’s eyes said to her — their gaze she dared not meet. 

One day, after a long silence, Catherine felt compelled 
to raise her head ; at that moment her hand was snatched 
by Philippe. She turned her eyes hastily away, and felt 
the young man press her slender fingers to his lips. 

“Catherine, do you love me? — will you love me?” 
whispered Philippe, in a low voice. “ I have loved you 
since the first moment I saw you ! ” 

Catherine began to weep, and could not answer, and 
Philippe went on speaking, telling her all he had felt since 
he first saw her — how his love had acquired strength daily. 

“ I am but a peasant !” he added. 

She interrupted him with a gesture. This word tore 
from her the truth, which she might have concealed for 
some time yet. 

“A peasant!” she said, “and what noble Seigneur is 
better than a peasantTike you?” 


sav£li’s expiation. 


183 


“I am worth something in your eyes?” said Philippe, 
humbly. 

“More than the rest of the whole world!” murmured 
Catherine, concealing her face in her hands ; and for that 
day Philippe was satisfied, and asked no more. 

As yet they had no thought for the future — the past 
and the present sufficed to them. This epoch in a new- 
born love is the sweetest in human existence : those who 
have known it, and whose dream of happiness has stopped 
there, are perhaps happier still! 

But after a brief season, Philippe was no longer content 
to dream of the past — his future must be more assured, to 
enable him to enjoy the present ! How could he leave the 
village again, unless he took Catherine with him? 

“ No,” answered the young girl, “ I must remain here. 
My grandmother could not bear any change now — you 
must come here ! ” 

“Your grandmother will not wish you to marry a 
simple peasant!” he said to her. 

“Grandma! She always wishes anything that I wish, 
she loves me so dearly ! ” 

“And your father?” 

“ He will be satisfied with anything of which grandma 
approves,” said Catherine, with an air of entire conviction. 
“It is perhaps your father who will raise objections.” 

Philippe turned pale; this possibility had never before 
entered his mind. His father hated the Bagrianofs — of 
this his son had long been convinced — although he had 
shown no special animosity against “the Lady and the 
Demoiselle.” 


184 


sav£li’s expiation. 



“ I will ask him in such a way that he will never be 
able to refuse me,” he replied, after a few moments of 
reflection. “ My father is passionately attached to me : his 
ambition for me and his aspirations were very high, and 
yet he allowed me to embrace a career, which in his opinion 
could not by any possibility lead to distinction, and I am 
quite sure that now, when it is a question of my lifelong 
happiness, that he will not be less kind.” 

Reassured by this reasoning the two young people cast 
care to the winds and thought only of their love. Saveli 
could not return before the middle of July. Three weeks 
intervened between this time and then, and these three 
Weeks were veritable weeks of paradise. 

One evening Philippe ran to the house in great haste. 
He had not been able to find Catherine in the garden. Pie 
entered as noiselessly as possible; found his way into the 
dining-room, where sat Madame Bagrianof asleep in her 
arm-chair. She opened her eyes long enough to recognize 
him with a smile of welcome, and then fell off to sleep 
again. 

Catherine beckoned him to the window where she sat. 

The sun had set. The sky, blue as flax blossoms, was 
tender and pure as the caresses of a child; the trees and 
plants seemed sleeping, and the linden blossoms made the 
air deliciously fragrant. 

“ Catherine,” said Philippe, in a low voice, “ my father 
comes late to-night.” 

“ You have no doubt of his consent?” 

“ No, none whatever. He will consent, of course, when 


SAVlilLl’s EXPIATION. 


185 


w™? ; 


he realizes that without you, sweet Catherine, I might be 
unable to obtain the celebrity he craves for me, but I 
should never be a good man.” 

Catherine pressed his hand, but did not speak. Madame 
Bagrianof moved slightly. 

“ To-morrow then, my betrothed,” murmured Philippe, 
softly, and he went out as discreetly as he had entered. 

At the foot of the steps he turned and looked back. 
Catherine was still at the window watching him ; he went 
toward the window. 

“ I cannot go away thus,” he said, taking the girl’s 
hands; “ I want something more; one kiss, sweetheart? 
The first?” 

“ To-morrow,” answered Catherine, “ when you have 
seen your father.” 

“ Not so ; then I shall have a right to demand it as 
your betrothed : give it to me, to-day, as a voluntary gift, 
my beloved.” 

Catherine hesitated ; he stood on the tips of his toes — 
the girl allowed herself to be drawn down toward him by 
the two hands he held — until her lips touched his. 

Precisely thus, twenty-seven years before, had Saveli 
kissed F6dotia. 

“ Good-night, sweetheart,” whispered Philippe. “ Good- 
night, my wife.” 

Catherine watched her lover as long as she could see 
him, and then turned her eyes to the sky above. Her 
young heart, full of joy and tenderness, felt the need of 
prayer. She sank on her knees, and in the soft, dewy 
twilight prayed for God’s blessing. 


186 


SAVELI'S EXPIATION. 


CHAPTER XXL 

“AND THE SINS OF THE FATHER SHALL BE VISITED 
UPON THE CHILDREN.” 

S AVELI never wished any one to meet him on his 
return home. His son heard him come in during the 
night; but did not dare to signify that he was awake lest 
his father should be displeased. 

But in the morning he hastened at an early hour to find 
Saveli, who was smoking in the dining-room, and immedi- 
ately set about making such arrangements for his father’s 
comfort as were calculated to put him into the best of 
humors. 

“ He has incurred some heavy debt,” muttered Saveli, 

J j 7 

shrewdly, as he watched these manifestations of affectionate 
solicitude on the part of his son. “He means to ask for 
money!” 

“Father!” said the young man, finally; “you have 
been to me a father such as I never before heard of — ” 
Saveli nodded in approval and affirmation. “I have 
come to ask you to put the finishing touch to all your 
goodness to me — ” he hesitated. 

“ In what way ? ” said Saveli, calmly. “ Go on.” 

“ By permitting me to marry — ” 

“You wish to marry?” said his father, without show- 
ing the smallest surprise. 


sav£li’s expiation. 


187 


“Yes, father, if you are willing. I am young, I 
know, but — ” 

“ That has nothing to do with it ! ” said Saveli. It is 
best for a man to marry young. Do you wish me to find 
a wife for you ? ” 

“ No, father, I have found the girl I wish to marry.” 

“ Not a peasant, I trust ?” said Sav6li, with a frown. 

“No, sir, she is a lady — a girl of noble birth.” 

“ Very good !” and Saveli nodded with a satisfied air. 
“ Very good ! And her name?” 

“ Catherine Bagrianof.” 

“A Bagrianof! ” cried Saveli, starting to his feet. He 
looked at his son with a terrible expression. “You lave 
a Bagrianof? It is an impossibility, an absolute impossi- 
bility.” 

“ I love her,” replied Philippe ; his face was as white 
as death. 

The eyes of the two men met. Those of the son were 
full of stern determination. The father’s expressed the 
most implacable rage. It was Sav6li who first turned 
away. 

“You love a Bagrianof?” he repeated, with increasing 
vehemence; “that accursed race, then, will never cease to 
pursue us. It is not true ! It cannot be true ! You do 
not love her, say?” 

“ I do love her ; and I have asked her to become my 
wife, subject to your permission, of course, my dear 
father.” 

“And she consented?” said Saveli, with his teeth set 
hard. 


188 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 


“ She consented ! ” 

“ That accursed race! That accursed race!” groaned 
the unhappy man. “ No, it cannot be ! It is impossible. 
I will never give you my blessing.” 

“ Her race may be accursed,” said Philippe, rising from 
his seat with flashing eyes, “ but Catherine herself is an 
angel sent from Heaven to atone for the faults and crimes 
of her ancestors ; you do not know her, dear father ; those 
who know her, bless her and love her. See her, father ; 
see her and know her! forget all your hatred — for- 
give — ” 

“ Forgive ! ” almost screamed Saveli, desperate, and hardly 
knowing what he said. “Forgive her — I forgive her! 
Do not speak of it,” he added, putting a strong con- 
straint upon himself. “ Never speak on the subject again 
to me, for you will never have my consent.” 

Philippe looked at his father ; this obstinacy, this hard, 
hatred which crushed his life and his happiness under foot, 
seemed to him so unreasonable, so inhumane, that, for- 
getting the respect and admiration he had felt for this 
father from his youth up, he turned away to leave the 
room with these words : 

“You can refuse your consent,” he said, in a low, con- 
centrated voice, “ but I can do without it — ” 

“ Marry without it ! ” cried Sav6li, raising his arm as if 
to strike his son; his arm fell at his side. “It is true,” 
he said, in a dull voice, that had no ring in it. “It is 
true that you can marry without your father’s consent — 
but — but you cannot marry a Bagrianof — you cannot!” 


SAY £ Li’S EX PI ATI OX. 189 

m 

he repealed, with energy, “ for God himself would interfere 
to prevent it ! ” 

“ I love her !” answered Philippe, “and love is stronger 
than hatred.” 

“ But, unhappy boy, it is not hatred ! ” cried the father, 
in despair; “there is something stronger than hatred, and 
stronger than love. Go away ! you will drive me mad!” 

He dropped exhausted upon a chair, with his hands 
hanging helplessly by his side, in wild-eyed grief and 
despair. 

He had kept his secret for twenty-seven years. The 
others, who were participants, were all dead. Father 
Vladimir was the one person living who knew it, and this 
priest, in the name of the God of Mercy, had given him 
absolution long since. The woman whom he had widowed 
had called him her preserver. 

Wealth had come to him, visible pardon from the Lord, 
and peace and prosperity rested upon his family. Hand- 
somer by far than the old Seigneurial mansion, his home 
overlooked the ruin ; the Bagrianof family were extin- 
guished in default of male heirs, while he, this low-born 
peasant, this criminal, had founded a new race in the per- 
son of this son — a race that would be called, possibly, to 
play a great part in the destiny of the world ; and now 
this son, handsome, intelligent, noble, and good, full of 
generous impulses and high hopes, the pride and the joy 
of his declining years, was in love with and wished to 
marry — whom ? The granddaughter of the man he, 
Saveli, had murdered. But Bagrianof would rise from 


190 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


his grave to prevent the marriage, if, in that church where 
his calcined bones reposed, the son of the murderer should 
claim Catherine’s hand ! 

Philippe had not left the room, but, leaning against the 
door, hoped on. The very violence of this refusal, which 
was insufficiently accounted for by any amount of wrong 
inflicted by the Bagrianofs, induced him to hope that his 
father’s heart would soften. 

“ Philippe ! ” said Saveli, at last, in a weak, broken 
voice, “do you love this young girl ?” 

The young man bowed his head in silence. 

“I implore you, my son, give her up. Take any other 
woman in the whole world for your wife, and I will offer 
no objection, not even if she were a beggar by the road- 
side; but do not marry a Bagrianof! ” 

“ It is a Bagrianof whom I love,” said Philippe, “ and 
to whom I am affianced.” 

“ You cannot marry a Bagrianof, nevertheless,” said his 
father, pertinaciously. “ It is simply impossible.” 

Philippe looked up. And for the first time a vague 
suspicion of the truth flashed across his mind. He rejected 
the horrible idea with instantaneous horror. 

“And why?” he asked, after a few moments; impelled 
by the thought which he had dismissed, but which had 
returned with new strength. 

“ I am not responsible to you for any whys or where- 
fors,” answered Sav6li, haughtily. 

“Then I shall marry Catherine,” said Philippe, with 
his hand upon the door. “ If you had any good reasons 


sav£li’s expiation. 


191 


to offer in explanation of your refusal, I might possibly 
understand them ; but you seem to be actuated by a hatred 
that is both blind and unjust.” 

Saveli tried to speak, but his parched lips refused to 
utter one sound. He made the Russian sign, which is so 
significant, with the fingers of his right hand, and turned 
away. 

Philippe opened the door; before closing it he turned 
once more to his father, who stood the image of desolation 
and despair, motionless as a marble statue, with drooping 
head and pendant arms. Philippe was profoundly touched 
by this silent agony. He shut the. door and returned to 
his father’s side. 

Saveli turned upon his son eyes full of agony. “You 
think that it is from obstinacy that I object,” he said, 
speaking with evident difficulty. “ But, my poor boy, it 
is not I who refuse. I tell you that you cannot marry 
this young girl ; not on her account, poor child ; but be- 
cause the curse of God would strike your son dead in his 
cradle, and cause your flesh to rot from your bones! It 
is utterly impossible, I repeat, and I say it over and over 
again — impossible ! ” 

“What is this mystery, then ?” cried Philippe, utterly 
out of patience. “ If I am condemned to expiate some 
crime, the crime of some other person, let me at least know 
what that crime is ! I will not be a silent lamb led to the 
sacrifice. If I am condemned to suffer, I will at least know 
why ! ” 

Sav6li looked at his son, and saw in the stern hard eyes, 


192 


sav£li 7 s expiation. 


and on that young face a new expression, and realized that 
the young man was thoroughly in earnest. 

“Go find Father Vladimir / 7 said the father, “and ark 
him whatever you wish to know.” 

Philippe bowed respectfully, and hastened to the Rectory. 
Saveli watched him as long as he could see him, and then 
went to his private room, where he prostrated himself 
before the Holy Images. 

Father Vladimir was in his garden; Philippe opened 
the little gate, and went directly to him. 

“ I wish to speak to you, father / 7 he said, in a low voice. 

The priest looked at the young man long and earnestly. 

“Come with me / 7 he said, simply. He had a presenti- 
ment of what was coming. Philippe 7 s long lingerings in 
the garden, his evening readings in the Bagrianof mansion, 
had occasioned him much secret anxiety. Any interfe- 
rence was of course impossible; and the priest could only 
stand aside and wait. 

The two men turned silently into the path which led to 
the river ; a thick wood ran nearly down to the water ; 
and the grass grew thick and long by the shore. When 
they had reached this spot, far from all human ears, the 
priest seated himself on the trunk of a fallen tree, while 
Philippe leaned against a pine that had been blasted by 
lightning. 

“Plow can I aid you ? 77 asked the good priest. 

During this brief walk the youth had had time to regain 
a portion of his natural calmness of manner. 

“ Why will not my father give his consent to my marry- 
ing Catherine?” 


Vladimir did not reply. 

“ He told me to come to you for an explanation,” con- 
tinued Philippe, inexpressibly alarmed by this appalling 
silence. “Am I accursed ? Have I committed any crime? 
Has Catherine? Has my father? Answer — for I feel as 
if I were going mad!” 

And pressing his hands upon his hot eyes, Philippe 
flung himself on the ground. 

“Since your father bids me speak, I will speak,” began 
the priest, regretfully. “ May God inspire me with words 
of wisdom, and may only words of truth fall from my 
lips!” 

He rose and made the sign of the cross over the prostrate 
youth. 

“ Bagrianof,” he said, “ was a wicked man. Your 
father loved a young village girl — ” 

“My mother?” interrupted Philippe. 

“No, another young girl. Your father was passionate 
and haughty. Hot blood rau in his veins. Bagrianof 
found him insolent, and threatened to make a soldier of 
him. His young betrothed went to ask your father’s pardon, 
and obtained it, but at what a price! Coming away, she 
encountered your father. Not being able to meet his eyes, 
she ran down to the river, threw herself in, and was 
drowned. There is the very place,” and Vladimir pointed 
to the spot where Fedotia had disappeared. 

Philippe followed this gesture with a mournful gaze. 

“ May God have mercy on her soul ! ” resumed the con- 
fessor. “This was her only sin. Her father and her 
12 




104 sav£li’s expiation. 

betrothed swore to be revenged, and the night after her 
burial Bagrianof’s house was burned.” 

Philippe shuddered from head to foot, and buried his 
face in his hands. 

“ What of my father?” he murmured. 

“ Before setting the house on fire, impelled by the 
machinations of the devil, they killed Bagrianof with 
their hatchets.” 

“My father was one of them?” murmured Philippe, 
faintly, struggling against the frightful truth. 

“ Your father struck the first blow,” answered the priest, 
solemnly. 

The birds sang gayly among the trees, the locusts were 
heard in the meadow, the sun shone down on the river, 
the joy of nature in the month of July was heard and 
seen on all sides — while Philippe, lying prostrate on the 
turf, prayed for strength to bear this intolerable suffering. 

The priest stood by him, his tall form relieved against 
the summer sky. His right hand was extended toward 
the youth, this innocent sacrifice to a father’s crime. 
Philippe did not see it, or dared not take it. 

“ The stain of blood is upon me ! ” he said, with a 
shudder. He was silent again for some time. 

“ But Catherine? Catherine is innocent! Her hands 
are pure; those of her mother were without spot or 
blemish ! ” 

“Catherine expiates the crimes of her guilty grand- 
father,” said the priest, solemnly. “ Thus are the words 
of the prophet fulfilled ; 4 The sins of the father shall be 


sav£li’s expiation. 


195 


visited upon the children, even unto the third and the 
fourth generation/ ” 

Philippe shook his head sadly. 

"Oh, father,” he sighed, “can this be true? Is this the 
father whom I have loved and honored, of whom I had 
made a hero and an idol? Can it be that he is a 
murderer?” 

He stopped, shocked at the plain words in which he had 
garbed the truth. 

“May God forgive him. But God has forgiven him, 
Father Vladimir — forgiven him through you. God’s 
mercy is infinite. The sin is effaced.” 

“ But Saveli’s son cannot marry Bagrianof ’s daughter,” 
interrupted the priest. “ By what name could Catherine’s 
children salute Philippe’s father ? Do you wish the blood 
of the murderer and that of his victim, to be mingled in 
the veins of your children?” 

Philippe uttered a deep groan. His crumbling happi- 
ness crushed him under the weight of its fall. He had 
lived for months in a tender dream of enchantment, his 
soul basking in the warm sunshine of an honest, legitimate 
love, and now for evermore the memory of that ghastly 
night of crime would rise up between himself and his 
beloved. The very horror of his position gave him 
strength at last. He struggled to his feet, and to his 
astonishment found himself as weak as a child. 

“What ought I to do, Vladimir?” he asked, in a 
dreary voice. 

“ Whatever your heart suggests,” answered the priest, 




19G SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 

moved to tears by the sight of this happy life blasted by 
unmerited misfortune. 

“ My heart ! ” repeated Philippe, bitterly. “ I have no 
heart. I have duties to fulfil, and that is all which is left 
to me in this world.” 

The priest was silent. 

“ To abandon Catherine — to relinquish all thoughts of 
marriage, lest the crime — Ah, how can I use the word 
crime in connection with my father ! ” exclaimed the 
young man, in an agony of despair. 

The priest was still silent. 

“To abandon Catherine — who will learn to look upon 
me as a man without principle or honor. To abandon 
her after she has promised to become my wife. Oh, 
Catherine ! Catherine ! ” 

And again did Philippe throw himself upon the ground. 

The priest bent over him. “ My son,” he said, “take 
courage. This filial expiation may open the doors of 
heaven ! — ” 

Ah ! what mattered heaven then to Philippe, who had 
just lost all that this world could give ! 

“To leave Catherine this very day! ISTo, to-morrow! 
Father, may I not wait until to-morrow?” 

“ No,” said the priest, sadly; “not to-morrow — ” 

“ To-day, then ? This moment ? ” 

The priest bent his head in silence. 

“And my father? what am I to say to him? I have 
done no wrong — I did not ask for life. Cursed be the 
day I was born ! ” 


SAV^Ll’s EXPIATION. 


197 


The priest raised one hand to heaven. 

“ Be calm/’ he said ; “ God will one day send healing 
to your wounds.” 

Philippe rose and walked up and down the turf, with 
long strides. He suddenly turned toward Father Vlad- 
imir. 

“ I must see Catherine ! ” he said. 

“ Wait a little ! Wait until you are calmer.” 

“ No, I shall never be calmer — all is over — until the 
sacrifice is complete.” 

“ Shall I go with you ? ” asked Vladimir, anxiously. 

“ I am obliged to you, father, but I prefer to see her 
alone,” replied Philippe. With bowed head the young 
man walked away, absorbed in the thought of the gulf 
wherein his hopes and youth were all swallowed. 

Suddenly he recalled the fact that the priest must have 
suffered much in this terrible interview, and in recapitu- 
lating all the horrors of the past : he turned back again. 

“ I thank you, father,” he said; “ you have been most 
kind.” 

He extended his hand, hesitatingly. Was not that 
hand imbued with Bagrianof’s blood ? Vladimir under- 
stood him and opened his arms. Philippe threw himself 
into them without' speaking. The embrace was long and 
solemn ; they separated without one word. 

Father Vladimir returned slowly to his home, while 
Philippe went with feverish haste toward the Bagrianofs. 


193 


s a vfiLi’s expiation. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

PARTING. 

C ATHERINE had wakened with the birds that morn- 
ing, and looked forward to a long, happy day. 
Toward noon, silence and heat pervaded all nature, 
and Madame Bagrianof slept in her arm-chair near the 
window. The blinds were closed, and the room was fresh 
and dark ; Catherine yielded to these influences, and the 
girl laid her head on the window-sill and slept sweetly. 

When she opened her eyes Philippe was before her ; he 
had unclosed the blind, and was looking at her with eyes 
so full of love and sorrow, that she was soon wide awake. 
She rose from her chair and left the room with a swift, 
silent step ; not so silent, however, but that her grand- 
mother half opened her eyes and murmured : 

“ Don’t go out, child ; it is far too warm.” But Cathe- 
rine went on unheeding, and went to the acacia grove, 
where Philippe had preceded her. 

The young man fell on his knees before her; she seated 
herself on the bench, for she trembled from head to foot. 

“ Well ! ” she said, at last, seeing that he did not 
speak. 

Philippe looked at her. And her heart was wrung by 
the agony she read in his eyes. 

Philippe still knelt before her, wishing that he could 



SAV&Ll’s EXPIATION. 199 

have died before inflicting such misery on that young, 
innocent soul. 

“He refuses — I see;” said the girl, gently, letting her 
hands fall helplessly on her knees. 

“Oh, Catherine!” whispered Philippe, “ tell me once 
more that you love me. Give me courage.” 

Tears fell from Catherine’s eyes. 

“Give you courage! Ah, I have none to give! I do 
not know what courage is. I have never needed any. 
But I love you — you know I love you.” 

Philippe started forward, his arms extended as if to 
snatch her to his breast, then stopped. He could not 
touch Catherine with those hands! 

“ It is on account of my grandfather, is it not?” said 
the young girl, endeavoring to check her tears. “ I 
cannot be forgiven for being a Bagrianof ! It is not my 
fault. I have done no harm to any one.” 

Philippe had not removed his eyes from her face. 

“ I pay a heavy penalty for the crime of being a Bagri- 
anof,” continued the young girl ; “but you will not despise 
me for it; I am innocent.” 

“ I too am innocent,” thought Philippe; “X have spilled 
no blood!” 

He hesitated no longer, but pressed Catherine to his 
heart. 

“Listen,” he said, “I adore you. I will love no woman. 
But do you understand, sweetheart? we are antagonistic 
races — we can never marry. Do you remember one day, 
down there by the ruin, when you said that hereditary 


2C0 


sav£li's expiation. 


enmity was in our blood? It is true. We may love 
each other, but we can never marry.” 

“ I cannot understand,” said Catherine, faintly. 

“No matter; it is best that you should not understand,” 
replied the young man, with his arms still around her. 
“ We cannot spend our lives together. We cannot marry — 
we cannot be happy. There is not a corner of the earth 
which would receive us, should we dream of flying far 
from those who would here oppose our marriage. There 
is between us an unfathomable abyss which neither of us 
can bridge over with prayers or tears. We may love each 
other throughout our lives, but happiness can never be ours.” 

“Why? Tell me why?” persisted Catherine. 

The whole story came to his mind. 

“ It was a crime ! ” she said. “ It was a crime committed 
by my grandfather, I am sure!” and she shuddered from 
head to foot. 

“There are so many crimes,” replied the young man, 
hardly knowing what he said,. “ that the vengeance of the 
Lord knows not where first to strike. I will love you, 
Catherine, while I have life. Bid me now an eternal 
farewell ! ” 

“No, no!” she cried, her arms clinging around his 
neck. “ No, I cannot say farewell to you. I love you ! 
Without you, life is nothing to me !” 

“ It is the lot that we are both called upon to endure. 
We two must spend our lives far apart, weeping and 
praying for forgiveness of crimes which we have not com- 
mitted,” answered Philippe, his heart swelling with 


sav£li ? s expiation. 


201 


bitterness. “I am going away, never to return. Tell me 
first that you forgive me : that you know it is not my 
fault. You believe me, do you not?” 

And he held the poor, shivering Catherine more closely 
still in his strong arms. 

“ I believe you,” she murmured, “and I love you!” 

“ For ever and ever ? ” 

“For ever and ever. But shall I never see you again?” 

“Never, my beloved; never.” 

She embraced him fervently. 

“ Now go!” she said, “ while I have strength to bid you 
depart. Farewell! May God bring you peace and happi- 
ness. I shall pray for you all my life through.” 

He still lingered ! 

“No,” she said, “go now; my courage is fast leaving 
me. Go ! ” 

Philippe turned and fled like a madman. 

When alone, Catherine looked at that ruin bathed in 
sunlight and wrapped in silence — that profound noonday 
silence of midsummer. Her old childish dread of the 
spot returned to her. She remembered that she had 
always felt that there was a mystery about them — a 
mystery with which she was connected. 

“Ah!” she said, as she went toward it with her eyes 
full of tears — tears which eyes too weary with weeping now 
refused to shed. “If these tears can wash away the stains 
of blood left by my grandfather on these old stones, they 
will be pure and clean before the end of my days!” 

When Madame Bagrianof awoke, she found Catherine 
seated, as usual, in the embrasure of the window. 


202 


S A V J5 L I ? S EXPIATION. 


“ You are here, then, dear?” she said. 

“ Yes, dear grandmother ; will you have anything?” 

“Your voice has a strange sound. Are you ill? Is 
anything the matter?” 

“ I have a frightful headache.” 

“ I knew it. Another time, my child, you had best 
listen to me, and not go out in the heat.” And Madame 
Bagrianof leaned her head on the back of her chair, while 
Catherine got a book for her customary reading. 

“In this way,” thought the girl, “are my days and 
years to be passed for the rest of my life ? ” 

Philippe, on entering his dwelling, went to find his 
father in the dining-room. He was not there; and the 
son went on to his father's private apartment. 

Since his son had left him, Saveli had lain prone before 
the Holy Images. Remorse for the first time had entered 
his soul. Seeing his idolized son thus struck down, he 
realized for the first time the full enormity of the crime he 
had committed. The countenance he turned toward 
Philippe was that of an old man. Hearty and hale the 
previous evening, his face had now deep wrinkles, and 
had the sad expression of those who feel weary of life and 
long to die; but Philippe did not see this. Saveli rose, and 
stood before his son like a criminal before his judge. 

“ Farewell, my father,” said the son, in an icy tone. 

“Are you going away?” stammered the unhappy man. 
“Where are you going?” 

“To town — to work, and to pray!” added Philippe. 

“And the Demoiselle?” said his father, with some 
hesitation. 


SAVfiLpS EXPIATION* 


203 


cc We have bidden each other an eternal adieu.” 

“Does she know?” asked the guilty man, in a spasm of 
mental anguish. 

“No. Yesterday two persons in the world knew the 
truth ; to-day there are three — that is all the difference 
to you ! God has allowed honor and wealth to bless 
your house; you will remain rich and respected. My 
mother is a good woman ; nothing must trouble her peace 
of mind.” 

Saveli bowed his head in acquiescence. 

“And you?” he asked, more calmly. 

“I! I shall try and do my duty! I have but duty 
before me now as a guiding star! Farewell, my father!” 

“Philippe!” cried the unhappy man, “Philippe!” and 
he opeued his arms to his son, 

“Farewell, my father!” repeated Philippe, with a 
respectful obeisance. 

An hour later, notwithstanding the entreaties of his 
mother, he left the village, never to see it again. Saveli sat 
with eyes riveted upon the door through which his son had 
passed — the door which had dosed upon all his joy, his 
pride, and his hope. He started up with an angry gesture, 
and then his arms dropped by his side, and he locked 
himself into his room for the remainder of the day. 
Prostrate before the Images — grovelling on the ground ; 
beating his head upon the floor — he remained for hours, 
entreating the pardon of his offended God. 

The chastisement, so long deferred, had at last fallen 
upon his head ; his victim had indeed risen from his grave 


204 


SAVilLl’s EXPIATION. 


— not as the priest had once threatened, to accuse him before 
the world, but to laugh at him with that much-dreaded 
laugh, that sardonic sneer — to rejoice at the misery of his 
murderer. What suffering would not Sav6li have endured, 
of mind and of body, to restore peace and happiness to his 
son ! 

“ May he die!” he said to himself, more than once, 
“ may he die in the flower of his youth, rather than 
bequeath to children a legacy of suffering — a heritage of 
my crime!” 

On Sunday he saw at the church the Demoiselle, paler, 
thinner — changed already by sorrow — and horror upon 
horror ! — with a new and strange resemblance to her 
grandfather ! In vain did Saveli turn away his eyes ; he 
was absolutely fascinated by that pale, sweet face, which 
day by day was becoming etherealized by pain and 
longing. 

After some weeks, which seemed to him a taste of the 
tortures of that hell which the priest had threatened, Saveli 
suddenly found himself incapable of rising from his bed. 
Sharp autumnal winds were tearing the leaves from the 
trees, and whirling them through the air like strange Avild 
birds. For some days he lay in silence, vouchsafing no 
answer to the entreaties of his despairing wife. 

“ Will you let me send for our son ?” she said, at last. 

Saveli started up with a gleam of joy in his haggard 
eyes, then sank back again listlessly. 

u No,” he said, in a hoarse whisper, “ no, he would not 
come. Send for the Demoiselle,” he added, after a short 
pause. 


- 


SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 205 

The people about him looked at each other. Saveli had 
never crossed the threshold of the Bagrianof mansion. 
The physician, seeing that the sick man had not many 
hours to live, signed to them to obey this mandate without 
delay. Father Vladimir went himself. 

Catherine had laid aside her pretty light dresses; her 
golden hair no longer formed a halo around her sweet face, 
which had acquired a new expression of sadness, and 
almost of pain. 

“ Saveli asks to see you,” said the priest ; u he is very 
ill, and has only a few hours in this world.” 

The young girl flushed deeply ; she rose at once. She 
and Vladimir did not open their lips on the way. 

“I am here,” said Catherine, approaching the dying 
bed. “ What do you wish?” 

Saveli opened his eyes, already dimmed by approaching 
dissolution, and looked at her speechlessly. Presently he 
said, slowly : 

“Are you the Demoiselle?” 

“ Yes; I am she” 

“ Forgive me!” he murmured, trying to clasp his 
suffering hands. 

“ I forgive you,” answered Catherine. 

She thought he referred to the opposition he had offered 
to her marriage. 

“Forgive me everything — everything!” insisted the 
dying man. 

“ I forgive you everything,” repeated Catherine, won- 
deringly. 


206 


S A V £ LI J S EXPIATION. 




“ Give me your blessing/’ added Sav6li, in a faint voice. 

The young girl made a sign of the cross on the brow of 
the murderer of her grandfather. A strange joy irradiated 
Saveli’s countenance ; he breathed a long sigh of relief — 
and died. 

Catherine has refused to marry, desirous that the 
Bagrianof race should perish with her. Philippe, too, will 
never marry — lest the sins of the father should be visited 
on the children, even unto the third and the fourth gener- 
ation. 


THE END. 




Books by Mrs. Southwortli, Zola, etc., Published by 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, PHILADELPHIA, 

And Advertised on this page and the next page, are for sale by all 
Booksellers and by all News Agents at 25 cents each. 

PETERSONS' NEW 25 CENT SERIES” are the best , the most popular , 
and the fastest-selling books ever printed. ALL the books named on Th is page , and on 
the Next page, are in “ Petersons 7 New 25 Cent Series ,” and are for sale by ALL News 
Agents , at ALL News Stands, by ALL Booksellers, and. by ALL those that sell books 
EVERYWHERE and by the Publishers, T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia. 
THE MISSING BRIDE. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Soutkworth. 

MIRIAM ; The Avenger, or, The Bride of an Hour. By Mrs. Soutlnvorth. 
CAMILLE ; or, TllE FATE OF A COQUETTE. By Alex. Dumas. 

A MAD LOVE ; or, The Abbe and His Court. Bv Emile Zola. 

THE CORSICAN BROTHERS. By Alexander Dumas. 
RETRIBUTION. One of Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth’s Best Books. 
DOSIA. Madame Greville’s Great Russian Masterpiece. 

MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS NAPOLEON. By Zola. 
TWO KISSES ; or, To Wed or Not To Wed. Bv Captain Hawley Smart. 
EOLINE; or, The Heiress of Glenmore. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 

JARL’S DAUGHTER. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

THE MILLIONAIRE’S WIFE. A Story of New England Society Life. 
THE EXILES. A Russian Story. By Victor Tissot and Constant Amero. 

LA BE'l'E HUMAINE. (The Human Animal.) Emile Zola’s Last Book. 
VIOLA ; or. Adventures in the Far Southwest. By Emerson Bennett. 

CLARA MORELAND ; or, Adventures in the Far Southwest. By Bennett. 
INDI A; or, THE PE ARL OF PEARL RIVER. By Mrs. Southworth, 
WORTH THE W OOING. By Lady Gladys Hamilton. 

FAIR PLAY. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

BRITOMARTE, THE M AN-HATER. Bv Mrs. Southworth. 

SIFTING MATRIMONY. By author of “SOCIETY RAPIDS.” 

SOCIETY RAPIDS. High Life in Washington, Saratoga, Bar Harbor, etc. 
HOW' HE W ON HER. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE CAPTIVE BRIDE. Bv Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

RENEE ; or, In the Whirlpool of Napoleon’s Reign. By Emile Zola. 
HANDSOME MISS LISLE. By Lady Gladys Hamilton. 

LOVE’S LABOR W ON. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE MATCHMAKER. A Rich Vein of Inward Life. By Reynolds. 
MARRIED IN HASTE. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. A High Society Novel. 
MY LAD Y r ’S MASTER. By Lady Maude Rutledge. 

SAVELI’S EXPIATION. A Russian Story. By Henry Greville. 

HELEN AND ARTHUR. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 

MRS. MAYBURN’S TW INS. By author of “ Helen’s Babies.” 

GEMMA. By T. Adolphus Trollope. His Charming Italian Story. 

BERTHA’S BABY'. Full of Pathos, and Equal to “Helen’s Babies.” 

News Agents and Booksellers will be supplied with any books in “ Petersons ’ 
25 Cent Series ” at low rates, assorted, as they may wish them, to make up a dozen , 
hundred, or thousand, by the publishers, T.B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 

“ Peterson’s New 25 Cent Series ” will be found for sale at all News Stands, 
by all Booksellers, by all News Companies, and by all that sell books everywhere. 

Copies will be sent to any one, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 



Books by Mrs. Soutliworth, Zola, etc., Published by 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, PHILADELPHIA, 

And for sale everywhere at 23 cents each. 

TRIED FOR HER LIFE. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE. Bv Mrs. Emma D. E. N. South worth. 

THE CHANGED BRIDES. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southwurtn. 

THE BRIDE’S FATE. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE BRIDAL EVE. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER. By Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth. 
THE FAMILY DOOM. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. South worth. 

THE MAIDEN WIDOW. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Soutliworth. 

NANA. By Emile Zola. His Great Realistic Novel of Life in Paris. 

NANA’S DAUGHTER. A. Sequel to Emile Zola’s Novel of “ Nana.” 

LA TERRE. By Emile Zola. Zola’s Last and Greatest Book. 
Ii’ASSOMMOIR; or, NANA’S MOTHER. By Emile Zola. 

A GIRL’S LOVE. By Emile Zola, author of “ Nana.” 

HELENE. A Tale of Love and Passion. By Emile Zola. 

ALBINE; or, THE ABBE’S TEMPTATION. Bv Emile Zola. 

THE GIRL IN SCARLET, Bv Emile Zola, author of “ Nana.” 

NANA’S BROTHER; or, GERMINAL. By Emile Zola. 

LE REVE. ( The Dream.) By Emile Zola, author of “Nana.” 

FASHION AND FAMINE. Bv Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. 

THE OLD HOMESTEAD. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. 

THE OLD COUNTESS. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. 

LORD HOPE’S CHOICE. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. 

LINDA, or The Young Pilot of Belle Creole. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 
ROBERT GRAHAM. Sequel to “ Linda.” By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 
RENA; or, THE SNOW-BIRD. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 
MARCUS WARLAND. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz, author of “ Linda.” 
KATHLEEN. A Charming Novel By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 
THEO. A Sprightly Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

MISS CRESPIGN Y. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

A QUIET LIFE. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

PRETTY POLLY PEMBERTON. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, 
LINDSAY’S LUCK. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

MARRYING OFF A DAUGHTER. By Henry Grevill*. 

OUT OF THE DEPTHS. The Story of a Woman’s L *. 

CLIQUOT. A Racing Story of Ideal Beauty. By Kate Lee Ferguson. 
INDIANA. A Fascinating FTovel. By George Sand, author of “ Consuelo.” 
MY SON’S WIFE. By the author of “ Caste,” “Mr. Aide,” etc. 

MY HERO. {The Man I Love.) By Mrs. Forrester. 

A HEART TWICE WON, or Second Love. Bv Mrs. E. Van Loon. 

THE CONFESSIONS OF AN ABBE. Bv Louis Ulbaeh. 

THE PRAIRIE FLOWER. By Emerson Bennett. 

RUN DOWN. A Psychological Novel. By George D. Cox. 
LENI-LEOTI. Sequel to “ The Prairie Flower.” By Emerson Bennett. 

#gt*News Agents and Booksellers will be supplied with any of the above books 
at very low rates, assorted, as they may wish them, to make up a dozen, hundred, Jive 
hundred, or thousand, by the publishers, T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 

Copies will be sent to any one, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers , 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa* 


T. B. PETERSON and BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS 


Orders solicited from Booksellers, News Agents, Librarian*, 
Canvassers, and all others in want of good and fast-selling 
books, which will be supplied at very Low Rates.“^ft 


MjftS E D. E. H. SOUTH W ORTH’S FAMOUS WORKS 

Complete in forty-three, large duodecimo volumes, hound in morocco cloth , gilt bade 
price $1.50 each ; or $04.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Xshmael; or, In the Depths, being Self-Made; or, Out of Depths.... $1 50 

Self Raised; or, From the Depths. Sequel to a Ishmael.” I 50 

The Mother-in-Law $1 50 ~ ' 

The Fatal Secret, 1 50 

How He Won Her, I 50 

Fair Flay, I 50 

The Spectre Lover, 1 50 

Victor’s Triumph,..., 1 50 

A Beautiful Fiend, I 50 

The Artist’s Love....... 1 50 


The Deserted Wife, I 50 

The Fortune Seeker, 1 50 

The Bridal Eve, 1 50 


A Noble Lord, I 50 

Lost Heir of Linlithgow, 1 50 


The Lost Heiress, 1 


The Two Sisters, 1 

Lady of the Isle, 1 

Prince of Darkness, I 

The Three Beauties, 1 

Vivia; or the Secret of Power, 1 50 

Love’s Labor Wen, ] 50 


50 

50 

50 

50 

50 


Tried for her Life, 1 50 The Gipsy’s Prophecy, 1 50 

Cruel as the Grave, I 50 j Retribution 1 

The Maiden Widow, I 50 ' The Christmas Guest, 1 

The Family Doom, 1 50 Haunted Homestead, 1 


The Bride’s Fate, 1 50 

The Changed Brides, I 50 

Fallen Pride, I 50 

The Widow’s Son, 1 50 

The Bride of Llewellyn, 1 50 

The Fatal Marriage, 1 50 


50 
50 
50 
50 
50 

India; Pearl of Pearl River,. 1 50 

50 
58 
5(1 


Wife’s Victory, 1 

Allworth Abbey, 1 


Curse of Clifton, 1 

Discarded Daughter 1 

The Mystery of Dark Hollow,.. 1 


The Missing Bride; or, Miriam, the Avenger,.... 1 50 

The Phantom Wedding; or, The Fall of the House of Flint, I 50 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each, 
gelf Made; or, Out of the Depths. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 
Complete in two volumes, cloth, price $1.50 each, or $3.00 a set. 

CAROLINE LEE HENTZ’S EXQUISITE BOOKsi. 

Complete, in twelve large duodecimo volumes, bound in morocco cloth, gilt back., 
price $1.50 each; or $18.00 a set , each set is put up in a neat box. 


Ernest Linwood, $1 50 

Che Planter’s Northern Bride,.. 1 50 

Courtship and Marriage, 1 50 

Rena; or, the Snow Bird, 1 50 

M arcus Warland, 1 50 


Love after Marriage, $1 56 

Eoline; or Magnolia Vale, 1 50 

The Lost Daughter, 1 58 

The Banished Son, 1 50 

Helen and Arthur...... 1 


Linda ; or, the Young Pilot of the Belle Creole, 1 

Robert Graham; the Sequel to “ Linda; or Pilot of Belle Creole,”.. I 
Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 


50 

50 

50 


Books published by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa* 
Will be sent to any one, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price., 


2 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS 


MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS’ FAVORITE NOVELS. 


Complete in twenty-three large duodecimo volumes, hound in morocco cloth, gilt bade, 
price $1.50 each ; or $34.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat bos-. 


Nors ton’s Rest 

$1 

50 

The Soldiers’ Orphans, 

..$1 

Bertha’s Engagement, 

1 

50 

A Noble Woman,...., 

.. I 

Bellehood and Bondage, 

1 

50 

Silent Struggles, 

.. 1 

The Old Countess 

1 

50 

The Rejected Wife...... 

The Wife’s Secret, 

, a 1 

Lord Hope’s Choice, 

1 

50 

.. 1 

The Reigning Belle, 

1 

50 

Mary Derwent, 

.. 1 

Palaces and Prisons, 

1 

50 

Fashion and Famine, 

.. 1 

Married in Haste, 

1 

50 

The Curse of Gold, 

.. 1 

Wives and Widows, 

1 

50 

Mabel's Mistake, 

. 1 

Rubv Gray’s Strategy, 

1 

50 

The Old Homestead, 

.. 1 

Djubly False, 1 50 | The Heiress 1 50 | The Gold Brick,. 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

.. 1 


5fl 

58 

53 

56 

50 

60 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 


MISS ELIZA A. DUPLY’S WONDERFUL BOOKS. 

Complete in fourteen targe duodecimo volumes, hound in morocco cloth, gilt back, jyrioi 
$1.50 each ; or $21.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

A New Way to Win a Fortune $1 50 Why Did He Marry Her? $1 5<] 

The Discarded Wife, L 50 Who Shall be Victor ? 1 50 

The Clandestine Marriage, 1 50 The Mysterious Guest, 1 50 

The Hidden Sin, . 1 50 Was He Guilty? .. i 50 

The Dethroned Heiress, 1 50 j The Cancelled Will, 1 50 

The Gipsy’s Earning, 1 50 ; The Planter’s Daughter, 1 5(1 

All For Love, 1 50 Michael Rudolph, 1 5fc 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

LIST OF THE BEST COOK BOOKS PUBLISHED. 

tSvery housekeeper should possess at least one of the following Cook Books, as thc$ 
would save the price of it in a week’s cooking. 

Franca tel L’s Modern Cook Book for 1889. With the most approved 
methods of French, German, English and Italian Cookery. With 

Sixty-two Illustrations. One vol., 600 pages, morocco cloth, .$5 0ft 

Miss Leslie’s Cook Book, a Complete Manual to Domestic Cookery 

in all its Branches. Paper cover, S! .00, or bound in cloth, 1 50 

The Queen of the Kitchen. The Southern Cook Book. Contain- 
ing 1007 Old Southern Family Receipts for Cooking, Cloth, 1 50 

Mrs. Hale’s New Cook Book, Cloth, l 5© 

Petersons’ New Cook Book, Cloth, 1 5® 

Widdifield’s New Cook Book, Cloth, 1 50 

Mrs. Goodfellow’s Cookery as it Should Be, Cloth, 1 50 

The National Cook Book. By a Practical Housewife, Cloth, 1 50 

The Young Wife’s Cook Book, Cloth, 1 5$ 

Miss Leslie’s New Receipts for Cooking, Cloth, 1 50 

Mrs. Hale’s Receipts for the Million Cloth, 1 59 

TL© Family Save-All. By author of ‘‘National Cook Book,” Cloth, 1 5ft 


All Books published by T. E. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa* 
will be sent to any one, postage #aid, on receipt of Ketail Price* 


T. S, PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 3 


MRS. C. A. WARFIELD’S POPULAR WORKS. 

tfomfilete in nine large duodecimo volumes, hound in morocco cloth , gilt hack, price 
$1.50 each ; or $13.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Household of Bouverie,....$l 50 Miriam’s Memoirs, $1 50 

The Cardinal's Daughter, 1 50 Monfort Hall, 1 50 

Fame Fleming, ] 50 Sea and Shore, , 1 5G 

A Double Wedding, 1 50 Hester Howard’s Temptation,... 1 60 

Lady Ernestine; or, The Absent Lord of Rocheforte, 1 60 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, prico $1.60 each. 

FREDRIKA BREMER’S DOMESTIC NOVELS. 

ih&plete in six large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.50 each ; 
or $9.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Father and Daughter, $1 50 | The Neighbors, $1 50 

The Four Shters, 1 50 | The Home, 1 50 

Above are each bound in morocco cRtn, price $1.50 each. 

Life in the Old World. In two volumes, cloth, price, 3 00 

a. K. PHILANDER BOESTICKS’ FUNNY BOOKS. 

Complete in fovr large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.5? 
each ; or $(i.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Doesiicks’ Letters, $1 50 I The Elephant Club, $1 50 

Piu Ri-Bus-Tah, 1 50 | VV itches of New York, 1 50 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

JAMES A. MAITLAND’S HOUSEHOLD STORIES. 

Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound, in cloth, gilt hack, price $1.50 
each ; or $10.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

TheWatchm'n, .$1 50 I Diary of an Old Doctor, $1 50 

The Wander# r,.., 1 50 Snrtaroe, 1 50 

The Lawyer’s Story, 1 50 The Three Cousins, 1 60 

The Old Patroon ; or the Great Van Broek Property, 1 60 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

T, ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE’S ITALIAN NOVELS. 

Sbmplete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1 50 
each ; or $10.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Sealed Packet, $1 50 j Dream Numbers, $1 50 

Garstang Grange, 1 50 Beppo, the Conscript, 1 59 

Leonora Casaloni,... 1 50 | Gemma, 1 50 | Marietta, 1 59 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

FRANK FORESTER’S SPORTING SCENES. 

FfAnk Forester’s Sporting Scenes and Characters. By Henry William 
Herbert. A New, Revised, and Enlarged Edition,’ with a Life of the 
Author, a Hew Introductory Chapter, Frank Forester’s Portrait and 
Autograph, rfith a full length picture of him in his shooting costume, 
and seventef/j other illustrations, from original designs by Dariey and 
Frank Fored-'J^. Two vols., inorooeo cloth, bevelled boards, $4.00. 


Hfjigr Above Bo jks will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of RetaU 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


« T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


EMILE ZOLA’S NEW REALISTIC BOOKS. 

La Terre. (The Soil.) By Emile Zola, author of “Nana/' “ L'Assom- 
moir,” etc. Paper cover, 75 cents: cloth, SI. 25. 

Nana! Sequel to L’Assonnnoir. By Emile Zola. Nana! Price 75 cent* 
in paper cover, or $1.00 in morocco cloth, black and gold. Nana ! 

L’Assommoir ; or, Nana’s Mother. By Emile Zola. The Greatest Novel 
ever printed. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or SI. 00 in cloth. 

Christine, The Model ; or. Studies of Love and Artist Life in the Studios 
of Paris. By Emile Zola. Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

The Shop Girls of Paris. With their daily Life in Large Dry Goods Stores. 
By Emile Zola, author of “ Nana.” Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

lienee; or, In the Whirlpool! By Emile Zola. Zola’s New P I a y of 
“Renee” was dramatized from this work. Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

Nana’s Brother. Son of “ Gervaise,” of “ L’Assomraoir.” By Emile Zola, 
author of “ Nana.” Paoer, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

The Flower Girls of Marseilles. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana,” 
“ L’ Assommoir,” etc. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.25. 

The Joys of Life. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana,” “ Pot Bc.uille,” etc. 
Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in morocco cloth, black and gohL 

Pot-Bouille. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana.” “ Pot-Bouille.” Piice 
75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in morocco cloth, black and gold. 

The Flower and Market Girls of Paris. By Emile Zola. Price 75 cents 
in paper cover, or $1.25 in morocco cloth, black and gold. 

Nana’s Daughter. A Continuation of and Sequel to Emile Zola’s Great 
Realistic Novel of “ Nana.” Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.00 in cloth. 

The Mysteries of the Court of Louis Napoleon. By Emile Zola. Price 
lb cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

The Girl in Scarlet; or, the Loves of Silvere and Miette. By Emile Zcla . 
Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth. 

Albine; or, The Abbe’s Temptation. A Charming and Pathetic Love 
Story. By Emile Zola. Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

Helene, a Love Episode. A Tale of Love and Passion. By Emile Zola, 
Price 75^jents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

A Mad Love; or The Abb6 and His Court. By Emile Zola. Price 75 
cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

Her Two Husbands. By Emile Zola. Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

Claude’s Confession. By Emile Zola. Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

Magdalen Ferat. By Emile Zola. Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

Th6rese Raquin. By Emile Zola. Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.00. 

MRS. SOUTHWORTH’S WORKS IN’ CHEAP FORM. 

Ishmael; or, in the Depths — being “Self-Made; or, Out of the Depths.'* 

Self-Raised; or, From the Depths. Sequel to “Ishmael.” 

The Bride of an Evening; or, The Gipsy's Prophecy. 

The Missing Bride; or, Miriam, the Avenger. The Bridal Eve. 

The Curse of Clifton; or, The Widowed Bride. The Bride’s Fate. 

The Changed Brides; or, Winning Her Way. The Fatal Marriage 

Above are cheap editions, in paper cover, price 75 cents ?■<> n h . 

The Red Hill Tragedy. Sybil Eothertoa, 

Above are cheap editions, in paper cover, price 50 cents eaclU 


All Books published by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Psu 
will ba sent to any one, postage paid, on receipt of Retail PAc* 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS > 


PETERSONS’ SQUARE 12mo. SERIES. 

Soeidy Rapids. High Life in Washington, Saratoga and Bar Harbor. 
Snatched f.'om the Poor-House. A Young Girl’s Life History. 

The Major’s Love; or, The Sequel of a Crime. By Ella Brown Price 
Who Caros? A Woman’s Story. Fervent, Passionate and Repentant. 

■Above ci'-e in paper cover , price 50 cents each, or 75 cents each in cloth, 
Helen’s Babies. By John Ilabberton. With an Illustrated Cn^cr. 
Mrs. May burn’s Twins. By John Ilabberton, author tf Ucien » Babies 
Bertha’s Baby. Equal to “ Helen’s Babies.” WR* illustrated Cover. 
The Annals of a Baby. Baby’s Firs*, iritts, etc. By Mrs. Stebbins. 
Bessie’s Six Lovers. A Chs.vnung Love Story. By Henry Peterson. 
Father Torn and the Pep*,, or, A Night at the Vatican. Illustrated. 
Rondah ; or, Thirty -inree. Years in a Star. By Florence C. DieudonnS. 
Not His P.,«gwter. A Society Novel. By Will Herbert. 
t joomnnian Tragedy. A Novel of New York Life. By Lily Curry 
Little Heartsease. Equal to Rhoda Broughton’s. By Annie L. Wright 
Two Kisses. A Bright anil Snappy Love Story. By Hawley Smart. 

Her Second Love. A Thrilling, Life-like and Captivating Love Story. 

A Parisian Romance. Octave Feuillet' 8 New Book, just dramatized. 
Fanchon, the Cricket; or, La Petite Fadette. By George Sand. 

Two Ways to Matrimony ; or, Is it Love? or, False Pride. 

The Matchmaker. By Beatrice Reynolds. A Charming Love Story. 
The Story of Elizabeth. By Miss Thackeray, daughter of W. M. Thackeray. 
The Amours of Philippe ; or, Philippe’s Love Affairs, by Octave Feuillet. 
Raney Cottem’s Courtship. By author of “ Major Jones’s Courtship.” 

A Woman’s Mistake; or, Jacques de Trevannes. A Perfect Love Story. 
The Days of Madame Pompadour. A Romance of the Reign of Louis XV. 
The Little Countess. By Octave Feuillet, author of “ Count De Carnors.* 
The American L’Assominoir. A parody on Zola’s “ L’Assommoir.” 

Hyde Park Sketches. A very humorous and entertaining work. 

M iss Margery’s Roses. A Charming Love Story. By Robert C. Meyers. 
Madeleine. A Charming Love Story. Jules Sandeau’s Prize Novel. 
Carmen. By Prosper Merimee. Book the Opera tvas dramatized from. 
That Girl of Mine. By the author of “ That Lover of Mine.” 

That Lover of Mine. By the author of “That Gill of Mine.” 

Above are in paper cove r, price 50 cents each, or in cloth, at $1.00 each. 

PETERSONS’ SQUARE 12mo. SERIES. 

Edmond Dantes. Sequel to Alexander Dumas’ “ Count of Monte-Cristo.” 
Monte-Cristo’s Daughter. Sequel to and end of “ Edmond Dantes.” 

The Wife of Monte-Cristo. Continuation of “ Count of Monte-Cristo.” 
The Son of Monte-Cristo. The Sequel to “The Wife of Monte-Cristo.” 
Camille; or, The Fate of a Coquette. (La Dame Aux Camelias.) 
Married Above Her. A Society Romance. By a Lady of New York. 
The Man from Texas. A Powerful Western Romance, full of adventure. 
Erring, Yet Noble. A Book of Women and for Women. By I. G. Reed, 
The Fair Enchantress; or, How She Won Men’s Hearts. By Miss Keller. 
Above are in paper cover, price 75 cents each, or $1.25 each in cloth. 

Kennetn Cameron. A Novel of Southern Society and Plantation Life, 
By Judge L. Q. C. Brown, of Louisiana. Paper cover, 75 cts.; doth, $1.25. 


All Books published by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa., 
will be sent to any one, postage paid, on receipt of Retail 


& T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS, 


PETERSONS’ SQUARE 12mo. SERIES. 

Major Jones’s Courtship. 21 Illustrations Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00, 
Major Jones’s Georgia Scenes. 12 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1 .00. 
Major Jones’s Travels. 8 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Simon Suggs’ Adventures. 10 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.00. 
Louisiana Swamp Doctor. 6 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1 00. 
The Initials. 'A. Z.’ By Baroness Tautphoeus. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.25, 
JCudiana ! A Love Story. By George Sand. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
•Consuelo. By George Sand. Paper cover, Price 75 cents; cloth, $1.00, 
Countess of Rudolstadt. Sequel to Comuelo . Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1 .00. 
Marry Coverdale’s Courtship and Marriage. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.50. 
Those Pretty St. George Girls. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, gilt, $1.00. 
Vidocq ! The French Detective. Illustrated. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
The Black Venus. By Adolphe Belot. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
La Grande Florine. By Adolphe Belot. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
The Stranglers of Paris. By Adolphe Belot. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Mark Maynard’s Wife. By Frankie F. King. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
The Master of L’Etrange. By Eugene Hall. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Dora’s Device. By George R. Cather. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Snob Papers. A Book FuU of Roaring Fun. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1 .25. 
Karan Kringle’s Courtship and Journal. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50. 
The Prairie Flower, and Leni-Leoti. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Monsieur, Madame, and the Baby. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00, 
L’Evangeliste. By Alphonse Daudet. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25, 
The Duchesse Undine. By IT. Penn Diltz. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1 .25, 
The Hidden Record. By E. W. Blaisdell. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
A Russian Princess. By Emmanuel Gonzales. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00, 
A. Woman’s Perils ; or, Driven from Home. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25, 
A Fascinating Woman. By Edmond Adam. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25, 
La Faustin. By Edmond de Goncourt. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25, 
Monsieur Le Ministre. By Jules Claretie. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25, 
Winning the Battle ; or, One Girl in 10,000, Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25, 
A Child of Israel. By Edouard Cadol. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00, 
The Exiles. The Russian ‘ Robinson Crusoe.’ Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00* 
My Hero. A Love Story. By Mrs. Forrester. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $51.00* 
Paul Hart; or, The Love of His Life. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25* 
Mildred’s Cadet; or, Hearts and Bell-Buttons. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00* 
Bellah. A Love Story. By Octave Feuillet. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00* 
Sabine’s Falsehood. A Love Story. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00* 
Linda ; or, The Young Pilot of the Belle Creole. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.25] 
The Woman in Black. Illustrated Cover. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00* 
Madame Bovary. By Gustave Flaubert. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00° 
The Count de Caraors. By Octave Feuillet. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25 
How She Won Him ! A Love Story. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.2 j] 
Angele’s Fortune. Bj 7 Andre Theuriet. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25* 
St. Maur ; or, An Earl’s Wooing. Paper cover, price 75 cents, cloth, $1 25 
The Prince of Breffny. By Thomas P. May. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.50* 
The Earl of Mayfield. By Th:mas P. May . Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00 
Francatelli’s Modern Cook Book for 1891. Enlarged Edition. With the 
most approved methods of French, English, German, and Italian Cook^ 
ery. With 62 Illustrations. 600 pages, morocco cloth, prioe $5.00. 

Ill Books published by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa< 
will be sent to any one. postage paid, on receipt of Retail Prioa. 


T. 8. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 1 


MRS. F. H. BURNETT’S NOVELLETTES. 

Kathleen. A Love Story. By author of “ That Lass o’ Lowries ” 

Theo. A Love Story. By author of “ Kathleen,” ‘‘Miss Crcspigny.” 
Lindsay’s Luck. A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, 
Pretty Polly Pemberton. By author of “ Kathleen,” “ Theo,” etc. 

A Quiet Life. By Mrs. Burnett, author of “ That Lass o’ Lowries.” 

Miss Crespignv, also Jail’s Daughter. By Mrs. Burnetii, 

Above are in paper cover, price 50 cents each, or in cloth, at $1.00 each. , 

HENRY GREVILLE’S CHARMING NOVELS. 

Zitka; or, The Trials of Rai’ssa. A Russian Love Story, from which tag 
Popular Play of “ Zitka” was dramatized. By Henry Greville. 

The Princess Ogherof. A Love Story. By Henry Greville. 

Above are in paper cover, price 75 cents each, or in cloth , at $1.00 each. 
The Princess Routine. A Russian Love Story. By Henry QrGville. 
Dosia. ''A Russian Story. By Henry Greville, author of “ Markof.” 
Saveli’s Expiation. A Powerful Russian Story. By Henry Greville. 
Tania's Peril. A Russian Rove Story. By Henry Greville. 

Sonia. A Love Story. By Henry Greville, author of “Dosia.” 

Lucie ltodey. A Charming Society Novel. By Henry Greville. 

B< nne- Marie. A Tale of Normandy and Paris. By Henry Greville. 
XeiAie’s Inheritance. A Tale of Russian Life. By Henry Greville. 
Dournof. A Russian Story. Bv Henry Greville-, author of “Dosia.” 
Mam’zelle Eugenie. A Russian Love Story. By Henry Greville. 
Gabrielle; or, The House of Maureze. By Henry Greville. 

A Friend; or, “ L’Ami.” By Henry Greville, author of “ Dosia.” 

Above are in paper cover, price 50 cents each, or in cloth, at -$1.00 each* 
Marrying Off a Daughter. A Love Story. By Henry Greville . 

Sylvie’s Betrothed. A Charming Hovel. By Henry Greville. 

Philomene’s Marriages. A Lovo Story. By Henry Greville. 

Guy’s Marriage; also Pretty Little Countess Zina. By Henry G re villa 
Above are in paper cover , price 75 cents each, or in cloth, at $1.25 each. 

•VI ark of, the Russian Violinist. Paper cover, 75 cents; cloth, $1.50. 

THE ‘‘COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO SERIES.” 

The Count of Monte-Cristo. Illustrated. Paper cover, $1.00, cloth, $1.50. 
Edmond Dantes. Sequel to “ Monte-Cristo.” Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.25. 
Monte-Cristo’s Daughter. Paper cover, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 
The Countess of Monte-Cristo. Paper cover, $1.00, morocco cloth, $1 
The Wife of Monte-Cristo. Paper cover, 75 cents, morocco cloth, $1.25. 
The Son of Monte-Cristo. Paper cover, 75 cents, morocco cloth, $1.25, 

BOOKS BY AUTHOR OF “A HEART TWICE WON* 

A Heart Twice Won ; or, Second Love. A Love Story. By Mrs. Eliza* 
belli Van Loon. Morocco cloth, black and gold. Price $1 50. 

Under the Willows; or, The Three Countesses. By Mrs. Elizabeth Van 
Loon, author of “A Heart Twice Won.” Cloth, and gold. Price $1.50. 
The Shadow of Hampton Mead. A Charming Story. By Mrs. Elizabeth 
Van Loon, author of “A Heart Twice Won.” Cloth, Price $1.50. 

The Mystery of AHanwold. A Thrilling Novel. By Mrs. Elizabeth Van 
Loon, author of “A Heart Twice Won.” Cloth, and gold. Price $1.50. 


fell Books published by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa* 
will be sent to any one, postage paid, on receipt of detail Price. 


8 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


WILKIE COLLINS’ BEST BOOKS. 

Basil; or, The Crossed Path. $1 50 J The Bead Secret. 12tno ..$1 5fl 

Above aie each in one large duodecimo volume, bound in cloth. 

The Dead Secret, 8vo 75 The Queen’s Revenge, 75 

Basil; or, the Crossed Path, 75 Miss or Mrs? , :A) 

Hide and Seek, 75 | Mad Monk ton, 50 

After Dark 75 ' Sights a-Foot, 50 

The Stolen Mask, 25 [ The Yellow Mask,... 25 | Sister Rose,... 26 

The above books are each issued in paper cover, in octavo form. 

EMERSON BENNETT’S INDIAN STORIES. 

Qmptete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.50 
each ; or $10.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Border Rover, $1 50 | Bride of the Wilderness, $1 5® 

Clara Moreland, 1 60 j Ellen Norhury, I 50 

The Orphan’s Trials, I 50 ' Kate Clarendon, 1 50 

Vioia ; or Adventures in the Far South-West, 1 50 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

The Heiress of Bellefonte, 75 } The Pioneer’s Daughter, 75 

GREEN’S WORKS ON GAMBLING. 

Complete in four large, duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.58 
each ; or $6.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Gambling Exposed $1 50 j The Reformed Gambler, $1 50 

The Gambler’s Life, 1 50 j Secret Band of Brothers, 1 60 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

DOW’S PATENT SERMONS. 

Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back , price $1.26 
each ; or $5.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Dow’s Patent Sermons, 1st j Dow’s Patent Sermons, 3d 

Series, cloth, $1 25 | Series, clot 1 ', $1 25 

Dow’s Patent Sermons, 2d Dow’s Patent Sermons, 4th 

Series, cloth 1 25 I Series, cloth 1 25 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.00 each. 

GEORGE SAND’S GREATEST NOVELS. 

Consuelo, 12mo., cloth, $1 50] Jealousy, 12mo., cloth, $1 6ft 

Countess of Rudolstadt, 1 50 1 Indiana, 12mo., cloth, 1 50 

Above are each published in 12mo., cloth, gilt side and back. 
Fanchon, the Cricket, paper cover, 50 cents, or fine edition, in cloth, 1 50 
First and True Love. With 11 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, 1 00 

Censuelo. Paper cover, 75 ] The Corsair 50 

Simon. A Love Story, 50 I The Last Aldini, 50 

She Countess of Rudolstadt. The Sequel to Consuelo. Paper cover, 75 

MISS BRADDON’S FASCINATING BOOKS. 

Aurora Floyd, 75 1 The Lawyer’s Secret, 25 

Aurora Floyd, cloth 1 00 | For Better, For Worse, 74 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


t. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. S 


CHARLES DICKENS’ WORKS. ILLUSTRATED. 

n is edition is printed from large type, octavo size, each book being comjp^te 
in one large octavo volume, bound in Morocco Cloth, with Gilt Character 
Figures on back, and Medallion on side, price $1 .50 each, or $27. 00 a set, 
contained in eighteen volumes, the whole containing near Six Hundred 
Illustrations, by Cruikshank, Phiz, Browne, Maclise, and other artists. 
The Pickwick Papers. By Charles Dickens. With 32 Illustrations, .$1.50 
Nicholas Nickleby. By Charles Dickens. With 37 Illustrations,.,.. 1 50 

David Copperfield. By Charles Dickens. With 8 Illustrations, 1 50 

Oliver Twist. By Charles Dickens. With 2d Illustrations, 1 50 

Bleak House. By Charles Dickens. With 38 Illustrations, 1 50 

Dotnbey and Son. By Charles Dickens. With 38 Illustrations, 1 50 

Sketches by “ Boz.” By Charles Dickens. With 20 Illustrations,... 1 50 

Little Dorrit. By Charles Dickens. With 38 Illustrations, 1 50 

Our Mutual Friend. By Charles Dickens. With 42 Illustrations ... 1 50 
Great Expectations. By Charles Dickens. With 34 Illustrations,... 1 50 
Lamplighter's Story. By Charles Dickens. With 7 Illustrations,... 1 50 

Burnaby Rudge. By Charles Dickens. With 50 Illustrations, , 1 50 

Martin Chuzzlewit. By Charles Dickens. With 8 Illustrations, I 50 

Old Curiosity Shop. By Charles Dickens. With 101 Illustrations,. 1 50 

Christmas Stories. By Charles Dickens. With 12 Illustrations, 1 50 

Dickens’ New Stories. By Charles Dickens. With portrait of author, 1 50 
A Tale of Two Cities. By Charles Dickens. With 64 Illustrations,. 1 50 


Charles Dickens’ American Notes and Pic-Nic Papers, 1 50 

BOOKS BY TEE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

The following books are each issued in one large, duodecimo volume, 
bound in morocco cloth, pirice $1.50 each. 

The Initials. A Love Story. By Baroness Tautpboeus, f 1 50 

Married Beneath Him. By author of “ Lost Sir Massingbcrd,” 1 50 

Margaret Maitland. By Mrs. Oliphant, author of “ Zaidee,” 1 50 

Family Pride. By author of “Pique,” “ Family Secrets,” etc......... 1 50 

The Autobiography of Edward Wortley Montagu, 1 50 

The Forsaken Daughter. A Companion to “Linda,” 1 50 

Love and Liberty. A Revolutionary Story. By Alexander Dumas, 1 50 

The Morrisons. By Mrs. Margaret Hosmer, 1 50 

The Rich Ilusb*nd. By author of “ George Geith,” 1 50 

The Lost Beauty. By a Noted Lady of the Spanish Court, 1 5® 

My Hero. By Mrs. Forrester. A Charming Love Story, 1 50 


The Quaker Soldier. A Revolutionary Romance. By Judge Jones,.... 1 50 
Memoirs of Vidocq, the French Detective. His Life and Adventures, 1 50 
The Belle of Washington. With her Portrait. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 50 
High Life in Washington. A Life Picture. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 50 
Courtship and Matrimony. By Robert Morris. With a Portrait,... 1 50 

The Jealous Husband. By Annette Marie Mnillard, 1 50 

The Conscript ; or, the Days of Napoleon 1st. By Alex. Dumas,.... I 50 
Cousin Harry. By Mrs. Grey, author of “ The Gambler’s Wife,” etc. I 50 
Above books are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 eaea. 


ffegr Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Prieq 
by T. B. Poterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


to T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

The following hoohs are each issued in one large duodecimo volume, 
hound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

The Count of Monte-Cristo. By Duinas. Illustrated, 50 cts., $1. CO,.. $1 50 


The Countess of Monte-Cristo. Paper cover, price $1.00; or cloth,.. 1 50 

Camille; or, the Fate of a Coquette. By Alexander Dumas, 1 50 

Love and Money. By J. B. Jones, author of the “ Rival Belles, ”... 1 50 
The Brother’s Secret ; or, the Count De Mara. By William Godwin, 1 50 
The Lost Love. By Mrs. Oliphant, author of “ Margaret Maitland,” 1 50 

The Bohemians of London. By Edward M. Whitty, 1 50 

Wild Sports and Adventures in Africa. By Major W. C. Harris, 1 50 

The Life, Writings, and Lectures of the late “ Fanny Fern,” 1 59 

The Life and Lectures of Lola Moutez, with her portrait, 1 50 

Wild Southern Scenes. By author of “Wild Western Scenes,” 1 50 

Currer Lyle ; or, the Autobiography of an Actress. By Louise Reeder. 1 50 

The Cabin and Parlor. By J. Thornton Randolph. Illustrated, 1 50 

The Little Beauty. A Love Story. By Mrs. Grey 1 50 

Lizzie Glenn ; or, the Trials of a Seamstress. By T. S. Arthur, 1 50 

Lady Maud; or, the Wonder of Kingswood Chase. By Pierce Egan, 1 50 

Wilfred Montressor; or, High Life in New York. Illustrated, 1 50 

Lorrimcr Littlegood, by author “ Harry Coverdale’s Courtship,” 1 50 

Married at Last. A Love Story. By Annie Thomas, 1 50 

Shoulder Straps. By Henry Morford, author of “ Days of Shoddy,” 1 50 

Days of Shoddy. By Henry Morford, author of “ Shoulder Straps,” 1 50 

The Coward. By Henry Morford, author of “ Shoulder Straps,” 1 50 

Above books are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

The Roman Traitor. Bv Henry William Herbert. A Roman Story, 1 75 

The Last Athenian. By Victor Rydberg. From the Swedish, 1 75 


MRS. HENRY WOOD’S REST BOOKS, IN CLOTH. 

The following are cloth editions of Mrs. Henry Wood's best hooks, and they 
are each issued in large octavo volumes, hound in cloth, price $1.75 each. 
Within the Maze. B}’ Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “East Lynne,” $1 75 

The Master of Greylands. By Mrs. Henry Wood, 1 75 

Dene Hollow. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Within the Maze.” 1 75 
Bessy Rane. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “The Channings,”.... 1 75 
George Canterbury's Will. By Mrs. Wood, author “Oswald Cray/' 1 75 
The Channings. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Dene Hollow,”... 1 75 

Roland Yorke. A Sequel to “ The Channings.” By Mrs. Wood, 1 75 

Shadow of Ashlydyatt. By Mrs. Wood, author of “ Bessy Rane,”.... 1 75 
Lord Oakburn’s Daughters; or The Earl’s Heirs. By Mrs. Wood,... 1 75 
Verner’s Pride. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ The Channings,” 1 75 
The Castle’s Heir; or Lady Adelaide’s Oath. By Mrs. Henry Wood, 1 75 
Oswald Cray. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Roland Yorke,”.... 1 75 

Squire Trevlyn’s Heir; or Trevlyn Hold. By Mrs. Henry Wood, 1 75 

The Red Court Farm. By Airs. Wood, author of “ Verner’s Pride,” 1 75 
Elster’s Folly. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Castle’s Heir,”... 1 75 
St. Martin s Eve. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “Dene Hollow,” 1 75 
Mildred Arkell. By Airs. Henry Wood, author of “East Lynne,” 1 75 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipi of Retail Pric^ 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa* 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 11 


ALEXANDER DUMAS’ ROMANCES, IN CLOTH. 

The following are cloth editions of Alexander Dumas' works, and they art 
each issued in large octavo volumes, hound in morocco cloth. 

The Three Guardsmen ; or. The Three Mousquetaires. By A. Dumas, $1 75 
Twenty Years After ; or the “Second Series of Three Guardsmen,” ... 1 75 
Bragelonne; Son of Athos ; or “ Third Series of Three Guardsmen,” 1 75 
The Iron Mask; or the “ Fourth Series of The Three Guardsmen,”.... 1 75 
Louise La Valliere. The Sequel to “The Iron M<>sk.” Being the 


“Fifth Book and End of the Three Guardsmen Series 1 75 

The Memoirs of a Physician; or, Joseph Balsamo. Illustrated, 1 75 


Queen’s Necklace; or “ Second Series of Memoirs of a Physician,” 1 75 
Six Years Later; or the “ Third Series of Memoirs of a Physician,” 1 75 
Countess of Charny ; or “Fourth Series of Memoirs of a, Physician,” 1 75 
Andree De Taverney ; or “ Fifth Series of Memoirs of a Physician,” 175 
The Chevalier. The Sequel to “ Andree De Taverney.” l^eing the 


“Sixth Book and End of the Memoirs of a Physician Series.” 1 75 

The Adventures of a Marquis. By Alexander Dumas, 1 7 5 


The Forty-Five Guardsmen. By Alexander Dumas. Illustrated,... i 75 
Diana of Meridor, or Lady of Monsoreau. By Alexander Dumas,... 1 75 
The Iron Hand. By Alex. Dumas, author “Count of Monte-Cristo,” 1 75 

Camille; or the Fate of a Coquette. (La Dame aux Camelias,) 1 50 

The Conscript. A novel of the Days of Napoleon the First, 1 oi> 

Love and Liberty. A novel of the French Revolution of 1792-1793, 1 50 

THE “ COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO SERIES,” IN CLOTH. 

The Count of Monte-Cristo. By Alexander Dumas. Illustrated,... 1 aO 

Edmond Dantes. The Sequel to the “ Count of Monte-Cristo,” 1 25 

Monte-Cristo’s Daughter. Sequel to and end of “ Edmond Dantes,” 1 25 
The Countess of Monte-Cristo. The Companion to “Monte-Cristo, ' 1 50 
The Wife of Monte-Cristo. Continuation of “Count of Monte-Cristo,” 1 25 

The Son of Monte-Cristo. The Sequel to “ Wife of Monte-Cristo,” 1 25 

T. S. ARTHUR’S GREAT TEMPERANCE BOOKS, 

Six Nights with the Washingtonians, Illustrated. T. S. Arthur’s 
Great Temperance Stories. Large Subscription Edition, cloth, gilt, 

$3.50; Red Roan, $1.50; Full Turkey Antique, Full Gilt, 6 08 

The Latimer Family ; or the Bottle and Pledge. By T. S. Arthur, cloth, 1 00 

MODEL SPEAKERS AND READERS. 

Comstock’s Elocution and Model Speaker. Intended for the use of 
Schools, Colleges, and for private Study, for the Promotion of 
Health, Cure of Stammering, and Defective Articulation. By 
Andrew Comstock and Philip Lawrence. With 236 Illustrations.. 2 00 
The Lawrence Speaker. A Selection of Literary Gems in Poetry and 
Prose, designed for the use of Colleges, Schools. Seminaries, Literary 
Societies. By Philip Lawrence, Professor of Elocution. 600 pages.. 2 00 
Comstock’s Colored Chart. Being a perfect Alphabet of the English 
Language, with exercises in Pitch, Force and Gesture, and Sixty- 
Eight colored figures, representing the postures and attitudes to be 
used in declamation. On a large Roller. Every School should have it. 5 OS 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price* 
by T- B Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


12 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

The following books are each issued in one large octavo volume , bound tfc 
cloth, at $1.50 each, or each one is done up in paper cover , at $1.00 each. 

The Wandering Jew. By Eugene Sue. Full of Illustrations, $1 58 

Mysteries of Paris ; and its Sequel, Gerolsfcein. By Eugene Sue,.... 1 50 

Martin, the Foundling. By Eugene Sue. Full of Illustrations...... 1 50 

Tan Thousand a Year. By Samuel Warren. With Illustrations,.... 1 5® 

The following books are each issued in one large octavo volume, bound i&i 
elmth, at $2.00 each, or each one is done up in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

Washington and His Generals. By George Lippard.......... 2 03 

Th« Quaker City; or, the Monks of Monk Hall. By George Lippard, 2 00 

Blanche of Brandywine. By George Lippard, 2 00 

Paul Ardenheim ; the Monk of Wissahickon. By George Lippard,. 2 00 
The Mysteries of Florence. By Geo. Lippard, author “ Quaker City,” 2 00 
The Pictorial Tower of London. By W. Harrison Ainsworth, 2 56 

The following are each issued in one large octavo volume, bound in cloth, price $1.50 
each, or a cheap edition is issued in paper cover, at lb cents each. 

Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dragoon. By Charles Lever, Cloth, $1 50 

Harry Lorrequer. With his Confessions. By Charles Lever, ...Cloth, 1 50 

Jack Hinton, the Guardsman. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 1 50 

Davenport Dunn. A Man of Our Day. By Charles Lever, ...Cloth, 1 50 

Tom Burke of Ours. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 1 50 

The Knight of Gwynne. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 1 50 

Arthur O’Leary. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 1 50 

Con Cregan. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 1 50 

Horace Templeton. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 1 59 

Kate O’Donoghue. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 1 50 

Valentine Vox, the Ventriloquist. By Harry Cockton, Cloth, 1 50 

HUMOROUS ILLUSTRATED BOOKS. 

Each one is full of Illustrations, by Felix O. C. Darley, and bound in Cloth, 
Major Jones’ Courtship and Travels. In one vol., 29 Illustrations, .$1 75 


Major Jones’ Scenes in Georgia. With 16 Illustrations, 1 50 

Swamp Doctor’s Adventures in the South-West. 14 Illustrations,... 1 58 

Col. Thorpe’s Scenes in Arkansaw. With 16 Illustrations, 1 59 

High Life in New York, by Jonathan Slick. With Illustrations,.... 1 50 

Piney Wood’s Tavern; or, Sam Slick in Texas. Illustrated, I 50 

Humors of Falconbridge. By J. F. Kelley. With Illustrations, ... 1 50 

Simon Suggs’ Adventures and Travels. With 17 Illustrations, 1 59 

The Big Bear’s Adventures and Travels. With 18 Illustrations,......, 1 50 

Judge Haliburton’s Yankee Stories. Illustrated, 1 50 

Harry Coverdale’s Courtship and Marriage. Illustrated, 1 50 

Lorrimer Littlegood. Illustrated. By author of “ Frank Fairlegh,” 1 50 
Neal’s Charcoal Sketches. By Joseph C. Neal. 21 Illustrations,... 2 5Q 
Major Jones’s Courtship. 21 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth...... 1 00 

Major Jones’s Travels. 8 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth....... 1 CO 1 

Major Jones’s Georgia Scenes. 1 2 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, 1 00 
Raney Cottem’s Courtship. 8 Illustrations. Paper, 50 cents, cloth, 1 08 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Pric* 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. i3 


STANDARD NOVELS, BY BEST WRITERS. 

A Speculator in Petticoats. By Hector Malot. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1 25 
Which ? or, Between Two Women. By Daudet. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, 1 25 
Consuelo. By George Sand. One volume, 12mo., bound in cloth,... 1 50 
The Countess of Rudolstadt. Sequel to “ Consuelo.” 12mo., cloth,.. 1 50 
Indiana. A Novel. By George Sand, author of “ Consuelo," cloth, 1 50 
Jealousy ; or, Teverino. By George Sand, author “ Consuelo,” cloth, 1 50 
Fanchon, the Cricket ; or, La Petite Fadette. By George Sand, cloth, 1 50 


Twelve Years of My Life. By Mrs. B. Beaumont, cloth, 1 50 

Iphigenia. A Woman of Progress. By Hugo Furst. Paper, 75, cloth, 1 25 

The Dead Secret. By Wilkie Collins, author of “ Basil," cloth, 1 50 

The Crossed Path; or Basil. By Wilkie Collins, cloth, 1 50 


Mystery of Edwin Drood ; and Master Humphrey’s Clock, by Dickens, 1 50 
John Jasper’s Secret. Sequel to “Mystery of Edwin Drood/’ cloth,... 1 50 
The Life of Charles Dickens. By Dr. R. Shelton Mackenzie, cloth, 1 50 
The Lamplighter’s Story, with others. By Charles Dickens, cloth,... 1 50 
The Old Stone Mansion. By author of “ Heiress of Sweetwater," cloth, 1 50 
Lord Montagu’s Page. By G. P. R. James, author** Cavalier," cloth, 1 50 
The Earl of Mayfield. By Thomas P. May, cloth, black and gold,.. 1 50 

Myrtle Lawn. A Novel. By Robert E. Ballard, cloth, 1 50 

Corinne; or, Italy. A Love Story. By Madame de Stael, cloth,.... 1 00 
Cyril la ; or Mysterious Engagement. By author of “ Initials," cloth,.. 1 00 

Treason at Home. A Novel. By Mrs. Greenough, cloth 1 50 

Letters from Europe. By Colonel John W. Forney. Bound in cloth, 1 50 

Frank Fairlegh. By author of “ Lewis Arundel," cloth, 1 50 

Lewis Arundel. By author of “ Frank Fairlegh," cloth,. 1 50 

Harry Racket Scapegrace. By the author of “ Frank Fairlegh," cloth, 1 50 

Tom Racquet. By author of “ Frank Fairlegh," cloth, 1 50 

Sam Slick, the Clockmaker. By Judge Haliburton. Illustrated,... 1 50 

Modern Chivalry. By Judge Breckenridge. Two vcls., each 1 58 

La Gaviota ; the Sea-Gull. By Fernan Caballero, cloth, 1 50 

Aurora Floyd. By Miss M. E. Braddon. Bound in cloth I 00 

Laws and Practice of the Game of Euchre and Draw Poker, cloth,.. 1 00 
Youth of Shakspeare, author “Shakspeare and His Friends," cloth, 1 25 
Shakspeare and His Friends, author “Youth of Shakspeare,” cloth, 1 25 
The Secret Passion, author of “Shakspeare and His Friends,” cloth, 1 25 
Father Tom and the Pope; or, A Night at the Vatican, ill us., cloth, 1 00 

Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott. One 8vo. volume, cloth, 2 50 

Life of Sir Walter Scott. By John G. Lockhart. With Portrait...... 2 50 

Life, Speeches and Martyrdom of Abraham Lincoln. Lius., cloth,.. 1 50 
Rome and the Papacy. A History of Rome in Nineteenth Century, I 50 
The French, German, Spanish, Latin and Italian Languages Without 
a Master. Whereby any one of these Languages can be learned 

without a Teacher. By A. II. Monteith. One volume, cloth 2 00 

Liebig’s Complete Works on Chemistry. By Justus Liebig, cloth,... 2 00 

Life and Adventure* of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, cloth, 1 50 

The Impeachment Trial of President Andrew Johnson. Cloth, 1 50 

Trial ot the Assassins for the Murder of Abraham Lincoln. Cloth,... 1 50 
Just One Day. By author of “ Helen’s Babies." Paper 50, cloth,.. 1 00 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Pr\c©i 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


15 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


BEAUTIFUL SNOW! NEW & ENLARGED EDITION 

Beautiful Snow! A New and Enlarged Edition is just ready ot 
“ Beautiful Snow; with Other Poems never before published, ” by J. 

W. Watson, with Original Illustrations by Edward L. Henry. This 
New and Enlarged edition of “ Beautiful Snow ; with Other Poems/* 
<mtains, besides all the Poetns that were in the original editions 
af “ Beautiful Snow,” and in “The Outcast and Other Poems,” 
many New and Original Poems by the author of “ Beautiful 
Snow,” which have never before been published, and axe fully 
equal to the Poeui of “ Beautiful Snow.” It is complete in one 
volume, morocco cloth, black and gold, gilt top and back, price . ..$2 
In full gilt morocco cloth, full gilt edges, gilt back, gilt sides, etc.,.. 3 TO 
The Outcast, and Other Poems. By J. W. Watson, author of “ Beau- 
tiful Snow.” One volume, morocco cloth, price I 08 

HEW AND GOOD BOOKS BY BEST AUTHORS. 

3. is Breitmann’s Ballads. By Charles G. Leland. Containing the 
4 First,” “ Second,” “ Third,” u Fourth,” and “ Fifth Series ” of Hons 


Lreitmann's Ballads. Complete in one large volume, bound in 
morocco cloth, gilt side, gilt top. and full gilt back, with beteled 

boards. With a full and complete Glossary to the whole work, \ Oil 

Meister Karl's Sketch Book. By Charles G. Leland. (Hans Breit- 
mann.) Complete in one volume, green morocco cloth, gilt side, 
gilt top, gilt back, with beveled boards, price $2.50, or in maroon 
morocco cloth, full gilt edges, full gilt back, full gilt sides, etc., 3 50 


The Young Magdalen; and Other Poems. Bound in green mo- 


rocco cloth, gilt top, side, and back, price $3.00; or in full gilt,.... 4 00 
The Ladies’ Guide to True Politeness and Perfect Manners. By 
Miss Leslie. Every lady should have it. Cloth, full gilt back,... 1 50 
The Ladies' Complete Guide to Needlework and Embroidery. With 

113 illustrations. By Miss Lambert. Cloth, full gilt back, 1 50 

The Ladies' Work Table Book. 27 illustrations. Paper 50 cts., cloth, 1 00 
Dow’s Short Patent Sermons. By Dow, Jr. In 4 vols., cloth, each.... 1 25 

Wild Oats Sown Abroad. By T. B. Witmer, cloth, 1 50 

The Miser’s Daughter. By William Harrison Ainsworth, cloth, 1 50 


Across the Atlantic. Letters from France, Switzerland, Germany, 1 50 
Popery Exposed. An Exposition of Popery as it was and is, cloth, 1 50 
The Adopted Heir. By Miss Pardoe. author of “The Earl’s Secret,” 1 50 
Coal, Coal Oil, and all other Minerals in the Earth. By Eli Bowen, 1 50 
Historical Sketches of Plymouth, Luzerne Co., Penna. By Hendrick 
B. Wright, of Wilkesbarre. With Twenty-five Photographs....... 4 00 


HARRY COCKTCN’S LAUGHABLE NOVELS, 


Valentine Vox, Ventriloquist,.. 75 

Valentine ( r ox, cloth,.... 1 50 

Sylvester Sound, 75 

The Love Mjitch, 75 


The Fatal Marriages, 

The Steward, 

Percy' Effingham, 

The Prince, 


75 

75 

75 

75 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, cn receipt of Retail Price, 
Lx T. Petersen & Brothers, Philadelphia, Fa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS PUBLICATIONS. 15 

BOOKS IN SETS BY THE BEST AUTHORS. 


Mrs. Emma D. E N. South worth’s Famous Works. 43 vols. in all 64 ~A 
Mrs. Ann S. Stephens’ Celebrated Novels. 23 volumes in all,. ...... ->4 5* 

Miss Eliza A. Dupuy’s Wonderful Books. Fourteen volumes in al M 21 06 
Mrs. Caroline Lee Henlz’s Exquisite Books. Twelve volumes in ali, 18 09 

Mr.* - C. A. Warfield’s Popular Works. Nine volumes in all, 13 59 

Frt ^erika Bremer’s Domestic Novels. Six volumes in all, ... 9 00 

J. Adolphus Trollope’s Italian Novels. Seven volumes in all,. 1(1 5i!> 

sjaaaes A. Maitland’s Household Stories. Seven volumes in all, ...... 10 5$ 

Cha/les Lever’s Works. Ten volumes in all,.... 15 0® 

Alexander Dumas’ Great Romances. Twenty-one volumes in all,.. 31 5ii 

§“rank Fairlegh’s Works. Six volumes in all, .. 9 GO 

Cook Books. The best in the world. Eleven volumes in ail, 16 50 

Mrs. Henry Wood’s Novels. Seventeen volumes in all, 29 75 

Q. K. Philander Doestick’s Funny Books. Four vols. in all, 6 00 

Emerson Bennett’s Indian Stories. Seven volumes in all 10 58 

American Humorous Books. Illustrated. Twelve volumes in ali, IS 06 

Eugene Sue’s Best Works. Three volumes in all, 4 59 

Georgs Sand’s Great Novels. Consuelo, etc. Five volumes in all,. 7 59 

George Lippard’s Weird Romances. Five volumes in all, 10 09 

Dow’s Short Patent Sermons. Four volumes in all, 5 00 


The Waverley Novels. New National Edition. Five 8vo. vols., cloth, 1 5 09 
Charles Dickens’ Works. New National Edition. 7 volumes, cloth, 2U 09 
Charles Dickens’ Works. Illustrated 8 on. Edition. 18 vols., cloth, 27 09 
Charles Dickens’ Works. New American Edition. 22 vols., cloth, 33 00 
Charles Dickens’ Works. Green Cloth 12mo. Edition. 22 vols., cloth, 44 09 
Charles Dickens’ V'orks. Illustrated 12/no. Edition. 36 vols., cloth, 4a 90» 


ALEXANDER DUMAS’ ROMANCES, IN PAPER. 


Count of Monte-Cristo, $1 00 

Edmond Dantes, 75 

The Three Guardsmeu, 75 

Twenty Years After, 75 

Bragelonne, 75 

The Iron Mask, 1 00 

Louise La Valliere, 1 00 

Diana of Meridor, 1 00 

Adventures of a Marquis, 1 00 

Love and Liberty, (J702-’93).. 1 00 

Camiile; or, The Fate of a Coquette, (La Dame Aux Camel iaa,).... 
Countess of Monte-Cristo. The companion to Count of Monte-Cristo 
■ The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.50 each. 


Memoirs of a Physician ; or, 

Joseph Balsa mo, $1 

Queen’s Necklace,...., 1 

Six Years Later,..,,, I 

Countess of Charr.y, 1 

Andree de Taverney, 1 

Thr Chevalier,... 1 

Forty-five Guardsmen, 1 


The Iron Hand,. 
The Conscript, 


C4 

00 

00 

09 

09 

00 

00 

00 

9(1 

00 

00 


The Wife of Monte-Cristo 75 

The Son of Monte-Cristo 75 

Monte-Cristo’s Daughter 75 

The Mohicans of Paris, 75 

The Horrors of Paris, 75 

The Fallen Angel, 75 

Felina de Chambure, 75 

Sketches in France, 75 


The Count of Moret, 50 | The Black Tulip, 50 | Buried Alive,, 


Isabel of Bavaria, 75 

The Man with Five Wives,. ..... 75 

Annette; or, Lady of Pearls,... 75 

Twin Lieutenants, 60 

George; or, Isle of France,,.... 60 

Madame de Chamblay, ........... 56 

The Corsican Brothers, ........... 60 

The Marriage Verdict, 66 

21 


Above Books wi ll be sent, postage paid, on Receipt of Retail Price* 
T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia. Pa, 


10 T. B. PETERS OK & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


PETERSONS’ “DOLLAR SERIES.’’ 

Petersons' “ Dollar Series ” of Good Novels are the cheapest books at One Dollar each 
ever published. They are all issued in uniform style, in V2mcf, form, and are 
bound in red , blue and tan vellum, with gold and black sides and back, and are sold 
at the low price of One Dollar each , while they are as large as any books published 
at $1.75 and $2.00 each. The following have already been issued in this series; 

A Woman’s Thoughts About Women. By Miss Mulock. 

Two Ways to Matrimony; or. Is It Love, or, False Pride? 

The Story of “ Elizabeth.” By Miss Thackeray. 

FI irtations in Fashionable Life. By Catharine Sinclair. 

Lady Edith; or, Alton Towers. A very charming and fascinating work. 
Myrtle Lawn; or, True Love Never Did Run Smooth. A Love Story. 

The Matchmaker. A Society Novel. By Beatrice Reynolds. 

Rose Douglas, the Bonnie Scotch Lass. A Companion to “ Family Pride.'" 
The Earl’s Secret. A Charming Love Story. By Miss Pardoe. 

Family Secrets. A Companion to “Family Pride,” and very fascinating. 
The Macdermots of Bailyoloran. An Exciting Novel, by A. Trollope. 

The Family Save-All. With Economical Receipts for the Household. 
Self-Sacrifice. A Charming Work. By author of “Margaret Maitland.” 
The Pride of Life. A Love Story. By Lady Jane Scott. 

The Rival Belies; or, Life in Washington. Author “ Wild Western Scenes.” 
The Clyffards of Clyffe. By James Payn, author “Lost Sir Massingberd.” 
The Orphan’s Trials; or, Alone in a Great City. By Emerson Bennett. 
The Heiress of Sweetwater. A Love Story, abounding with exciting scenes. 
The Refugee. A delightful book, full of food for laughter, and information. 
Lost Sir Massingberd. A Love Story. By author of “ Clyffards of Clyffe.” 
Cora Belmont; or, The Sincere Lover. A True Story of the Heart. 

The Lover’s Trials ; or, The Days Before the Revolution. By Mrs. Denison. 
My Son’s Wife. A strong, bright, interesting and charming Novel. 

Aunt Patty’s Scrap Bag. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz, author of “ Rena.” 
Saratoga! and the Famous Springs. An Indian Tale of Frontier Life. 
Country Quarters. A Charming Love Story. By Countess of Blessington. 
Self-Love. A Book for Young Ladies, with prospects in Life contrasted. 
The Devoted Bride; or, Faith and Fidelity. A Love Story. 

Colley Cibber’s Life of Edwin Forrest, with Reminiscences of the Actor. 

Out of the Depths. The Story of a Woman’s Life, and a Woman’s Book. 

The Queen’s Favorite ; or, The Price of a Crown. A Romance of Don Juan. 
Six N ights with the Washingtonians. By T. S. Arthur. Illustrated. 

The Coquette; or, the Life and Letters of the beautiful Eliza Wharton. 
Harem Life in Egypt and Constantinople. By Emmeline Lott. 

The Old Patroon; or, The Great Van Broek Property, by J. A. Maitland. 
Nana. By Emile Zola. Gambling Exposed. By J. H. Green 

L’Assommoir. By Emile Zola. Woodburn Grange. By W. Howitt. 

Dream Numbers. By Trollope. The Cavalier. By G. P. R. James. 

A Lonely Life. Across the Atlantic. 

The Beautiful Widow. Shoulder-Straps. By II. Morford. 

Love and Duty. By Mrs. Hubback. The Brothers’ Secret. 

The Heiress in the Family. The Rector’s Wife. 

Woman’s Wrong. A Woman’s Book. The Man of the World 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Prioa 
by T. B Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


t. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 17 


PETERSONS’ “STERLING SERIES.” 

* Petersons’ Sterling Series ” of New and Good Books are the Cheapest Novels 
in the world. They are all issued in uniform style. , in octavo form , pries 
One Dollar each , bound iu morocco cloth, black and gold ; or 75 cents each 
in paper cover, with the edges cut open all around. The following 
celebrated toorks have already been issued in this series : 

Oorinne; or, Italy. By Madame De StaeL This is a Wonderful Book. 
The Man in Black; or the Days of Queen Anne. By G. P. R. Janies. 
Sckna ; or, Missing Since Midnight. A Love Story. By Mrs. Heory Woo4>, 
Cyrilla. A Love Story. By the author of “ The Initials.” 

Popping the Question; or, Belle of the Ball. By author of “The Jilt.*' 
Marrying for Money. A Charming Love Story in Real Life. 

Aurora Floyd. An Absorbing Love Story. By Miss M. E. Braddon. 
Salathiel; or, The Wandering Jew. By Rev. George Croly. 

Harry Lorrequer. Full of Fun, Frolic and Adventure. By Charles Leveti 
Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dragoon. Charles Lever’s Greatest Novel. 
The Flirt. A Fashionable Novel. By author of “The Gambler’s Wife.” 
The Dead Secret. Wilkie Collins’ Greatest Work. 

Thackeray’s Irish Sketch Book, with Thirty-eight Illustrations. 

The Wife’s Trials. Dramatic and Powerful. By Miss Julia Pardoe. 

The Man With Five Wives. By Alexander Dumas, author of “ Camille. - 
Pickwick Abroad. Illustrated by Cruikshank. By G. W. M. Reynolds. 
First and True Love. Beautifully rich in style. By George Sand. 

The Mystery; or, Anne Hereford. A Love Story. By Mrs. Henry Wood. 
The Steward. Illustrated. By the author of “ Valentine Vox.” 

Basil; or, The Crossed Path. By Wilkie Collins. Told with great power 
The Jealous Wife. Great originality of plot. By Miss Julia Pardoe. 
Sylvester Sound. By the author of “Valentine Vox, the Ventriloquist.” 
Whitefriars; or, The Days of Charles the Second. Equal to “Ivanhoe.” 
Webster and Hayne’s Speeches on Foot’s Resolution & Slavery Compromise. 
The Rival Beauties. A Beautiful Love Story. By Miss Pardoe. 

The Confessions of a Pretty Woman. By Miss Julia Pardoe. 

Flirtations in America; or, High Life in New York. 

The Coquette. A Powerful and Amusing Tale of Love and Pride. 

The Latimer Family. T. S. Arthur’s Great Temperance Story, illustrated^ 
Above books are $1.00 each in cloth, or 75 cents each in paper covecr. 
The Creole Beauty. By Mrs. Sarah A. Dorsey. Frice Fifty cents. 

Agnes Graham. By Mrs. Sarah A. Dorsey. Price Fifty cents. 

HENRY MORFORD’S AMERICAN NOVELS. 

Shoulder-Straps, $1 50 | The Days of Shoddy. A His- 

The Coward, 1 50 1 tory of the late War, $1 50 

Above are each bound in morocco cloth, price $1.50 each. 

THE SHAKSPEARE NOVELS. 

Shakspeare and his Friends, ...$1 00 1 The Secret Passion, <..$1 00 

The Youth of Shakspeare, 1 00 I 

Above three Books are also bound in morocco cloth. Price $1.25 each. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Prieft 
by T. E Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


Petersons 9 Editions of 66 Monte- Crista Series.” 


fciONTE-CRISTO’S DAUGHTER. Sequel to Alexander Dumas' Cel* 

brated Novel of “ The Count of Alonte- Cristo," and Conclusion of “Edmona 
Dantes ." With an Illustrated Cover, with Portrait of “ AJonte- Cristo' s Daugk 
ter , Zuleikaf on it. Every person that has read “ The Count of Alonte- Cristo 
should get “ Monte- Cristo' s Daughter " at once , and read it. It is complete 
one large duodecimo volume, paper cover, price 75 cents, or $1.25 in cloth. 

BOMOND DANTES. The Sequel to ‘t The Count of Monte- Cristo," by Alex 
ander Dumas. “ Edmond Dantes " is one of the most wonderful romances evei 
issued. Tust at the point where “ The Count of Monte- Cristo" ends, “ Edmonc 
Dantls" takes up the fascinating narrative and continues it with marvellou 
power and absorbing interest unto the end. Every person that has read “ Th 
Count of Monte- Cristo f should get “ Edmond Dantes" at once , and read it 
Complete in one large duodecimo volume, paper, price 75 cents, or $1.25 in cloth 

niE COUNT OF MONTE- CRISTO . Petersons' New Illustrate t 

Edition. By Alexander Dumas. With full-page Engravings, illustrative of va 
ricus scenes in the work. Petersons' Edition of “ Ihe Count of Alonte- Cristo' 
is the only Complete and Unabridged Edition of it ever translated, and it is con 
ceded by all to be the greatest as well as the most exciting and best historica! 
novel ever printed. Complete in one large octavo volume of six hundred pages 
with illustrations, paper cover, price One Dollar, or $1.50 bound in morocco cloth 

THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO. Being the Continuation of Alex 
ander Dumas' Celebrated Novel of “ The Count of Alonte- Cristo." With ar 
Illustrated Cover, with Portraits of “Alonte- Cristo," “Haydee," and their faithful 
servant, “Ali,” on k. Every person that has read “The Count of Alonte- Cristo ' 
should get “ The Wife of Monte- Cristo" at once, and read it. Complete in one 
large duodecimo volume, paper cover, price 75 cents, or $1.25 in cloth. 

i'HE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO. Being the Sequel to “ The Wife oj 
Alonte- Cristo." With an Illustrated Cover, with Portraits of the heroines in the 
work on it. Every person that has read “ Ihe Cotint of Alonte- Cristo" or “ The 
Wife of Alonte- Cristo," should get “The Son of Alonte-Cristo " at once, and read, 
it. One large duodecimo volume, paper cover, price 75 cents, or #1.25 in cloth* 

$I?E COUNTESS OF MONTE-CRISTO. Being the Companion to 
Alexander Dumas' Celebrated Novel of “The Count of Alonte- Cristo," and 
fully equal to that world-renowned novel. At the very commencement of thfi 
novel the Count of Monte Cristo, Hayd6e, the wife of Monte-Cristo,' and Esp£ 
ranee, the son of Monte-Cristo, take part in a weird scene, in which Mercedes, 
Albert de Morcerf and the Countess of Monte-Cristo also participate. Complete 
mi one large octavo volume, paper cover, price Une Dollar, or $1.50 in cloth. 

Petersons' editions of“ The Monte-Cristo Series" are for sale by all Booksellers. 

tna at all News Stands everywhere, or copies of any one or all of them , will be sent to 

trxy one, post-paid, on remitting the price of the ones wanted to the Publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS. Philadelphia, i * 


MitS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ’S WORKS. 

LIBRARY EDITION, IN MOROCCO CLOTH. 

JL2& Volumes, at Sl.SO Each.; or ©18-00 a Set, 


* T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS , No. 306 Chestnut Street , P7*iZa 
j delphia, have just published an entire new , complete, and uniform edition of 
tall the celebrated Novels written by the popular American Novelist , Mrs. Car v 
©Zine Lee Hentz , in twelve large duodecimo volumes. They are printed on the 
dnest paper, and bound in the most beautiful style, in Green Morocco cloth , 
wiZ/i a ?ieiu, /tiZZ gilt back, and sold at the low price of $1.50 each, or $18.00 
for a full and complete set. Every Family and every Library in this country , 
should have in it a complete set of this new and beautiful edition of the works 
of Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. The following is a complete list of 

MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ’S WORKS. 

LINDA; or, THE YOUNG PILOT OF THE BELLE CREOLE. 

With a Complete Biography of Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 
ROBERT GRAHAM. A Sequel to “ Linda.” 

RENA ; or, THE SNOW BIRD. A Tale of Real Life. 

MARCUS WARLAND ; or, The Long Moss Spring. 

ERNEST L1NW00D ; or, The Inner Life of the Author. 

EOLINE; or, MAGNOLIA VALE; or, The Heiress of Glenmore, 

THE PLANTER’S NORTHERN BRIDE ; or, Mrs. Hentz’s Childiwod 
HELEN AND ARTHUR; or, Miss Thusa’s Spinning-Wheel. 
POURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE ; or, The Joys of American Life. 
LOVE AFTER MARRIAGE; and other Stories of the Heart. 

THE LOST DAUGHTER; and other Stories of the Heart. 

THE BANISHED SON; and other Stories of the Heart. 

Above Books are for sale by all Booksellers at $1.50 each, or $18.00 fot 
a complete set of the twelve volumes. Copnes of either one of the above works, or 
a complete set of them, will be sent at once to any one, to any place, postage 
pro-paid, or free of freight, on remitting their price in a letter to the Publishers , 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa* 


Mrs. Ann S. Stephen s 1 Works 

23 Volumes, at $1.50 each; or $34.50 a Set, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS , No. 306 Chestnut Street , Philadelphia , Pa., 
4ave just published an entire new , complete, and uniform edition of all the works writ* 
ten by Mrs. Ann S. Stephens , the popular American Authoress. This edition is in 
duodecimo form, is printed on the finest paper , is complete in twenty-three volumes , and 
each volume is bound in morocco cloth, library style, with a f ull gilt back, and is sold al 
the low price o f $1.50 each, or $34.50 for a full and complete set of the twenty-three voU 
umes. Every Family, Reading Club, and every Private or Public Library in this 
country, should have in it a complete set of this new and beautiful edition of the 
works of Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. The following are the names of the volumes : 

FASHION AND FAMINE. THE REIGNING BELLE. 

BERTHA’S ENGAGEMENT. MARRIED IN HASTE. 

BELLEHOOD AND BONDAGE; cr, Bought with a Price. 

LORD HOPE’S CHOICE; or, More Secrets Than One. 
THE OLD COUNTESS. Sequel to “ Lord Hope’s Choice.” 

RUBY GRAY’S STRATEGY; or, Married by Mistake. 

PALACES AND PRISONS; or, The Prisoner of the Bastile, 

A NOBLE WOMAN; or, A Gulf Between Them. 

THE CURSE OF GOLD; or, Tne B<-und Girl and The Wife’s Trials. 
MABEL’S MISTAKE; or, The Lost Jewels. 

THE OLD HOMESTEAD ; or, The Pet of the Poor House* 

THE REJECTED WIFE ; or, The Ruling Passion. 

$ILENT STRUGGLES; or, Barbara Stafford. A Tale of Witchcraft 
THE HEIRESS; or, The Gipsy’s Legacy. 

THE WIFE’S SECRET; or, GiJifan. 

WIVES AND WIDOWS; of, The Broken Life. 
feOUBLY FALSE; jr, Alike and Not Alike. 

THE SOLDIER’S ORPHANS. THE GOLD BRICK, 

MARY DERWENT. NORSTON'S REST, 

feB^Abow books are for sale by all Booksellers at $ 1.50 each, or $34.50 .for a com 
plete set of the twenty-three volumes. Copies of either one or more of the above booi& 
cr a complete set of them, will be sent at once to any one r to any place , posl-im 
*id, or free of freight, on remitting their price in a letter to the Publisher^ 

T. R, PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia 


Petersons’ Complete and Unabridged Editions. 


Foremost among the greatest novels of any age stand the five absorbing romance 
forming “ The Three Guardsmen Meries,” as published by T. B. Peterson & Brothers. 
They are entitled respectively “ The Three Guardsmen ; or, The Three Mousquctaires” 
*' Twenty Years After,” the Sequel to “ The Three Guardsmen “ Bragelonne , the Son 
vf Athos ; or , Ten Years Later,” “The Iron Mask: or, The Feats and Adventures of 
Raoul de Bragelonne,” and “ Louise de la Vailiere ,” the Sequel to “The Iron Mask” 
mud conclusion of the famous “Three Guardsmen Series.” Written by the world-re • 
nowned novelist, Alexander Dumas . the best and most powerful winter of fiction Franc? 
has ever produced, when first published they created an excitement unparalleled in 
literary annals, and their vast popularity has been steadily maintained ever since. 
This cannot be wondered at when the books are read, for their fascination, strength 
and interest are unexampled. The original translations from' the French of these 
superb romances were made by that celebrated translator, Thomas Williams, Fsq.,fo* 
T. B. Peterson & Brothers, and are published only by them. They are altogether 
complete and unabridged, faithfully reproducing every Hue that Dumas wrote just as 
it came from his pen, without the slightest editing , adaptation or modification. They 
are historical romances, filled to overflowing with love, stirring adventures, gallantry, 
soldierly daring and manliness, vlots and counterplots, dark deeds, political machu 
nations, virtue, vice, innocence and guilt. D y Artagvan, Athos, A ram is and Port hot 
are the lending personages, and hosts of others fill their varied and important roles. 
Much light is thrown upon the history of France, and the French Court, and that mys- 
tery which puzzled the world for nearly two centuries, the identity of the Prisoner in 
the Iron Mask, is completely solved in a manner so powerful, interesting and ingeni- 
ous that this episode alone makes this series invaluable. 

THE THREE GUARDSMEN, or THE THREE MOUSQUETAIUES. 

By Alexander Dumas. Translated by Thomas Williams, Esq. Paper cover, 
75 cents; morocco cloth, Library style, $1.75. 

TWENTY YEARS AFTER. The Sequel to ‘‘The Three Guardsmen.” By 
Alexander Dumas. Translated by Thomas Williams, Esq. Being the “See* 
<ond Book ” of “ The Three Guardsmen Series.” Paper cover, 75 cents; mo* 
rocco cloth, Library style, $1.75. 

BRAGELONNE, THE SON OF ATHOS, or TEN YEARS LATER 

The Sequel to ‘* Twenty Years After.” By Alexander Dumas. Translated by 
Thomas Williams, Esq. Being the “ Third Book ” of “ The Three Guardsmen 
Series.” Paper cover, 75 cents; morocco cloth, Library style, $1.75. 

,THE IRON MASK, or THE FEATS AND ADVENTURES OF 
RAOUL DE BRAGELONNE. The Sequel to “ Bragelonne, the Son of 
Athos.” By Alexander Dumas. Translated by Thomas Williams, Esq. 
Being the ** Fourth Book ” of “ The Three Guardsmen Series.” Paper cover, 
$1.00; morocco cloth, Library style, $1.75. 

ItOUlSE DE L A VALLIERE, The Sequel to and end of “ The Iron Mask.* 
By Alexander Dumas. Translated by Thomas Williams Esq. Being the 
“Firth Book” and end of “The Three Guardsmen Scries.” Paper cover, 
$1.00; morocco cloth, Library style, $1.75. 

fig?* Alone five works are for sale by all Booksellers and Mews Agents, at all News 
Stands evf jyvjhere, and on all Railroad Trains, or copies of any 0 %t , or all of them, 
’Vill be sent t? any one , post-paid , on remitting price of ones wante d ti the pub lishero, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 

HOG Chestnut Street , Philadelphia , F** 



Published by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, and for sale 
by all Booksellers and News Agents Everywhere. 


CHRISTINE, THE MODEL; or, Studios in Paris. By Emile Zola. 

“Christine, the Model,” isspicy, brilliant, original, and startling, it fascinates from the 
opening paragraph to the closing word. As the setting for this ambitious and daring 
work, Zola has taken the Bohemian branch of the artistic world in Paris, and the 
novel progresses amid a thorough dissection of artist life in their studios, and a 
complete expose of the doings and methods of a host of aspiring painters. 

THE SHOP GIRLS OF PARIS. By Emile Zola. 

The action of this great novel takes place mainly in an immense Dry Roods Store, the 
rise of which from the smallest proi ortions Zola describes with the utmost minute- 
ness. The hosts of shop-girls or sales-ladies and salesmen are all brought in and 
placed befoie the reader in Zorn's most naturalistic way. In fact, shop-girls and sales- 
ladies life has never before been so completely and effectively exposed to the public 
gaze. The plot is powerful and absorbing, while every character is life-like. 

HELEN’S BABIES. With Illustrated Cover. By John Habberton. 

Two Hundred and Twenty-five Thousand copieB of “Helen's Babies.” have already 
been printed and sold, and it continues to be the most popular book in the world. 
Everybody is reading it, or wants a copy of it to read. 

MRS. MAYBURN’S TWINS. By John Habberton, author of “Ilelen’sBubies" 

BERTHA’S BABY. A Pathetic Story, equal to “Helen’s Babies.” 

THE ANNALS OF A BABY. By Sarah Bridges Stebbins. 

FATHER TOM AND THE POPE. A Satire 'with Illustrative Engravings. 

THE AMOURS OF PHILL1PPE. By Octave Eeuillet, author “Camors.” 

BESSIE’S SIX LOVERS. By Henry Peterson. 


THE IRON MASK; or, The Feats and Adventures of E.aoul De Brage' 

* lonne. Sequel to “ Bragelonne.” Price $1.00. Paper Cover. 

LOUISE DE LA VALLIERE. Sequel to “The Iron Mask,” and 
end of “The Three Guardsmen” Series. Price $1.00. Paper Cover. 

THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO. Fine Edition. Illustrated. 
Alexander Dumas Greatest Book. Price $1.00. Paper Cover. 

THE COUNTESS OF MONTE-CRISTO. With Her Portrait. Fine 
Edition. Price $1.00. Paper Cover. 

George Lippard’s Works. 

BLANCHE OF BRANDYWINE; or, SEPTEMBER the nth, 1777. 
PAUL ARDENHEIM, THE MONK OF WISSAHIKON. Illustrated. 
THE QUAKER CITY; or, The MONKS OF MONK HALL. With Portrait 
LEGENDS OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION, 1776. Illustrated. 
THE MYSTERIES OF FLORENCE: or, The Lady of Albarone. 
Above are in octavo form, paper cover , price $1.50 each, or in cloth, at $2.00 each. 

$ 32 “* Booksellers a”d News Agents trill be sttpp'ird icith any or all of the above 
books at very low rates, assorted as they may wish (hem, to make up a dozen, hvn~ 
dred, or five hundred , by the publishers , T. B Peterson <£ Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 

Copies will be sent to any one , post-paid on remitting price to the publishers , 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa, 


GEORGE LIPPARD’S WORKS. 


2„ B. PETERSON & BROTHERS , No. 306 Chestnut Street , Phila- 
delphia, have just published an entire new , complete , ancZ uniform edition 
of all the world-wide celebrated works written by the popular American His- 
torian and Novelist , George Lippard. Every Family and every Library in 
this country should have in it a set of this complete edition of Lippard" s works . 


LIST OF GEORGE LIPPARD’S WORKS. 

PAUL ARDEN IIEIM, THE MONK OF WISSAHIKON. A Romance 
of the American Revolution, 1776. By George Lippard. With a Portrait 
of the “Monk of Wissahikon,” and the “Devil’s Pool.” Complete in one 
large octavo volume, price $1.50 in paper cover, or in morocco cloth, $2.00. 
BLANCHE OF BRANDYWINE ; or, SEPTEMBER THE EIGHTH TO 
ELEVENTH, 1777. By George Lippard. A Romance of the American 
Revolution, as well as of the Poetry, Legends, and History of the Battle of 
Brandywine. The scenes are laid on the Battle-Ground of the Brandywine. 
One large octavo volume, paper cover, $1.50, or in morocco cloth, $2.00. 

THE LEGENDS OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION, 1776; or, 
WASHINGTON AND HIS GENERALS. By George Lippard. With 
a steel Engraving of the “ Battle of Germantown,” at “ Chew’s House.” 
One large octavo volume, paper covet, $1.50, or in morocco cloth, price $2.00. 
THE QUAKER CITY; or, THE MONKS OF MONK HALL. A 
Romance of Philadelphia Life, Mystery, and Crime. By George 
Lippard. With Illustrations and the Author’s Portrait and Autograph. One 
large octavo volume, paper cover, $1.50, or in morocco cloth, price $2.00. 

THE MYSTERIES OF FLORENCE; or, Til E CRIMES AND MYS- 
TERIES OF THE HOUSE OF ALBARONE. By George Lippard. 
One large octavo volume, paper cover, $1.00, or in morocco cloth, price $2.00. 
WASHINGTON AND HIS MEN. Being the Second Series of the 
Legends of the American Revolution, 1776. By Gtorge Lippard. 
With Illustrations. One large octavo volume, paper cover, price 75 cents. 
THE MEMOIRS OF A PREACHER; or, THE .MYSTERIES OF T1IE 
PULPIT. By George Lippard. With Illustrations. Price 75 cents. 

THE EMPIRE CITY ; or, NEW YORK BY NIGHT AND DAY. Its 
Aristocracy and its Dollars. By George Lippard. Price 75 cents. 

THE NAZARENE; or, THE LAST OF THE WASHINGTONS. By 
George Lippard. A Revelation of Philadelphia, New York, and Washington. t 
Complete in one large octavo volume, paper cover, price 75 cents. ** 

THE ENTRANCED; or, THE WANDERER OF EIGHTEEN CEN- 
TURIES, containing also, Jesus and the Poor, the Heart Broken, etc. By 
George Lippard. One large octavo volume, paper cover, price 50 cents. 

THE LEGENDS OF MEXICO. By George Lippard. Comprising Legends 
and Historical Pictures of the Camp in the Wilderness; The Sisters of Mon- 
terey ; The Dead Woman of Palo Alto, etc. Price 50 cents. 

THE BANK DIRECTOR’S SON. A Revelation of Life in a Great City. By 
George Lippard. One large octavo Volume, paper cover, price 25 cents. 
jpm-A bore Books are for sale by all Booksellers and by all News Agents everywhere. 
pp r* Copies of either one or more of the above books , or a complete set of them, will be 
sent at once, to any one, to any place, postage pre-paid, or free of freight , on remitting 
the price of the ones wanted , in a letter to 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


Petersons’ 75 Cent Series. 

Books by tie Best Authors in the World, Published by 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, PHILADELPHIA 

And for sale by all Bcoksellers and News Agents everywhere. 

ISHMAEL ; or, IN THE DEPTHS. By Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth. 
SELF-RAISED; cr, FROM THE DEPTHS. By Mrs. Southworth. 
THE FLOWER and MARKET GIRLS OF PARIS. Ey Emile Zola. 
CONSUELO. By George Sand. The OreaieatWork in the English Language 
THE BRIDE OF AN EVENING, By Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE INITIALS. “A. Z.” By the Baroness Tautphoeus. 

MEMOIRS OF VIDOCQ, the French Detective. With Illustrations. 
MAJOR JONES’S COURTSHIP. With 21 Illustrations. By Maj. Jones. 
MAJOR JONES’S TRAVELS. Full of Illustrations. 

MAJOR JONES’S GEORGIA SCENES. Full of Illustrations, 

SIMON SUGGS’ ADVENTURES. Illustrated hy Barley. 

THE LOUISIANA SWAMP DOCTOR. Illustrated by Darley. 

THOSE PRETTY ST. GEORGE GIRLS. A New Society Novel. 
COUNTESS OF RUDOLSTADT. Sequel to “Consuelo/’ By GeorgeSand. 
EDMOND DANTES. Sequel to Alex. Dumas “ Count of Monte-Cristo.” 
THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO. Continuation of “Count Monte-Cristo.” 
THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO. Sequel to “ Wife of Monte-Cristo.” 
MONTE-CRISTO’S DAUGHTER. Sequel to “Edmond Dantes.” 
POT-BOUILLE; or, PIPING HOT. One of Emile Zola’s Best Books. 
MKLDRED’S CADET. Hearts and Bell-Buttons. A Love Story of West Point. 
MADAME BOVARY. By Gustave Flaubert. His Great Suppressed Book. 
THE EXILES. A Russian Story. By Victor Tissot and Constant Amero. 
THE WOMAN IN BLACK. A Powerful Society Novel. 

MONSIEUR, M A. DAME and the BABY. With Illustrated Cover. 
WHICH? or, BETWEEN TWO WOMEN. By Ernest Daudet. 

A SPECULATOR IN PETTICOATS. By Hector Malot. Ilis Great Book. 
THE THREE GUARDSMEN. Alexander Dumas’ Great Book. 
TWENTY YEARS AFTER. Sequel to “The Three Guardsmen.” 
BRAGELONNE, The Son of Athos. Sequel to “Twenty Years After.' 

Booksellers and News Agents will be supplied with any or all of the above 
boohs at very low rates , assorted , as they may wish them , to make vp a dozen , huts- 
dred, or five hundred , by the publishers, T. B. Peterhon & Brothers , Philadelphia , Pa. 

Copies will be sent to any one, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


Mrs. Southworth’s New Books. 

PRICE 25 CENTS EACH. 


Published this day by T. B. Peterson & Brothers > 
Philadelphia, and for sale by them and by all 
Booksellers and News Agents Everywhere* 

MRS. SOUTIIWORTITS 25 CENT ROOKS. 

TRIED FOR HER FIFE. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

CRUEL AS THE GRAVE. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

FAIR PLAY. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

BR I TOM ARTE, THE MAN-HATER. By Mrs. Southworth. 

HOW HE WON HER. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE CAPTIVE BRIDE. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

INDIA, OF PEARL RIVER. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE MISSING BRIDE. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

MIRIAM, THE AVENGER. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE CHANGED BRIDES. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE FAMILY DOOM. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE MAIDEN WIDOW. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE BRIDAL EVE. By tyrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE BRIDE’S FATE. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

RETRIBUTION. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER. By Mrs. Southworth. 

BROKEN PLEDGES. By Mrs. Emma D. B. N. Southworth. 

Above Books by Mrs. Southworth are all in Petersons' Mew Twenty-five Cent 
Series , which are the Cheapest , the Best , the most Popular atul the Fastest Selling 
Series of Bonks ever published. Sixty five different novels are now issued in “ Peter - 
sm's New Twenty-five Cent Series .” Money can be made by all dealers in selling 
these books. A New Volume will be added tathe Series every two weeks. 

Booksellers and News Agents everywhere large or small dealers , n rd J he supplied 
by the Publishers with “ P El ERSONS' NEW 25 LENT SERIES," by the 
dozen, fifty, hundred or thousand, at very low rates, and they will please send in their 
orders at once for them, or else send for a complete list of them, to the Publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS , Philadelphia f Pa ., 

And their orders will receive immediate and prompt attention. 

Copies of the above books will be sent per mail, to any one, to anyplace , on receipt 
of price. Twenty-five cents each , or any five of the books will be sent for One Dollar - 


he Zola’s Realistic Books. 

PRICE 25 CENTS EACH. 


Published this day by T. B. Peterson & Brothers , 
Philadelphia , and for sale by them and by all 
Booksellers and News Agents Everywhere. 

EMILE ZOLA’S 25 CEKT BOOKS. 

NANA. By Emile Zola. Zola’s Great Novel of Life in Paris. 

LA TERRE. By Emile Zola. Zola’s Great Book. 

LA BETE HU MAINE. By Emile Zola. His New Book. 

THE COURT OF LOUIS NAPOLEON. By Emile Zola. 

THERESE RAQUIN. By Emile Zola. 

MAGDALENE FEU AT. By Emile Zola. 

L’ASSOMMOIR; or, NANA’S MOTHER. By Emile Zola. 

A GIRL’S LOVE. {La Revet): By Emile Zola. 

A MAD LOVE; or. The Abbe and His Court. By Emile Zola. 

NANA’S DAUGHTER. By Emile Zola. A Sequel to “ Nana.” 

THE GIRL IN SCARLET. By Emile Zola. 

HELENE. A Tale of Love and Passion. By Emile Zola. 

ALBINE; or, ABBE’S TEMPTATION. By Emile Zola. 

NANA’S BROTHER; or, GERMINAL. By Emile Zola. 

Above Books by Emile Zola are all in Petersons' New Twenty-five Cent Series, 
which are the Cheapest, the Best, the most Popidar and the Fastest Selling Series 
of Books ever published. Seventy different novels are now issued in “ Peterson' s 
New Twenty-five Cent Series Money can be made by all dealers, large or small, 
in selling these books. A New Volume will be added to the Series every two weeks. 

Booksellers and News Agents everywhere, large or small dealers, will be supplied 
by the Publishers, with “ PETERSONS' NEW 25 CENT SERIES," by the 
dozen, fifty , hundred or thousand, at very low rates, and they will please send in their 
orders at once for them, or else send for a complete list of them, {which gives the low 
price they will be sold to all Booksellers and News Agents for,) to the Publishers , 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS , 

300 Chestnut Street , Philadelphia , Pa. 

And their orders will receive immediate and prompt attention. 

Copies of the above books will be sent per mail, to any one , to any place , on receipt 
of price, Twenty five cents each , or any five of the books will be sent for One Dollar . 



I 






EACH IS IX ONE LARGE DUODECIMO VOLUME, CLOTH, GILT BACK, PRICE $1.50 EACH. 
Copies of all or any will be sent postpaid, to any place, on receipt of remittances. 

JSHMAEL; or, IN THE DEPTHS. (‘Self-Made; or, Out of Depths.’^ 
SELF-RAISED ; or, From the Depths. The Sequel to “ ishmael.” 
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE ; or, Hallow Eve Mystery. 

TRIED FOR HEK LIFE. The Sequel to “ Cruel as the Grave.” 
THE MISSING BRIDE; or, MIRIAM, THE AVENGER. 
VICTOR’S TRIUMPH. The Sequel to “A Beautiful Fiend.” 
THE FAMILY DOOM; or, THE SIN OF A COUNTESS. 

THE MAIDEN WIDOW. The Sequel to “ The Family Doom.” 
FAIR PLAY; or, BRITOMARTE, THE MAN-HATER. 

HOW HE WON HER. The Sequel to “ Fair Play.” 

A BEAUTIFUL FIEND; or, THROUGH THE FIRE. 

THE LADY OF THE ISLE ; or, THE ISLAND PRINCESS. 
THE CHANGED BRIDES; or, Winning Her Way. 

THE BRIDE’S FATE. The Sequel to “ The Changed Brides.” 
THE LOST HEIR OF LINLITHGOW; or, The Brothers. 

A NOBLE LORD. Sequel to “The Lost Heir of Linlithgow.” 
THE “MOTHER-IN-LAW;” or, MARRIED IN HASTE. 
THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER; or, The Children of the Isle. 
FALLEN PRIDE: or, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL’S LOVE. 

THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS; or, HICKORY HALL. 

THE TWO SISTERS; or, Virginia and Magdalene. 

THE FATAL MARRIAGE; or, ORVILLE DEVILLE. 

THE GIPSY’S PROPHECY; or, The Bride of an Evening. 

THE PHANTOM WEDDING; or, The Fall of the House of Flint 
THE FORTUNE SEEKER; or, Astrea, the Bridal Day. 

THE THREE BEAUTIES; or, SHANNONDALE. 

THE CHRISTMAS GUEST; or. The Crime and the Curse. 
INDIA ; or, PEARL OF PEARL RIVER. THE CURSE OF CLIFTON. 

WIDOW’S SON; or, LEFT ALONE. THE WIFE’S VICTORY. 
THE MYSTERY OF DARK HOLLOW. 

ALLWORTH ABBEY; or, EUDORA. 

THE BRIDAL EVE. (ROSE ELMER.) 

VIVIA ; or, SECRET OF POWER. 

THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD. 


THE SPECTRE LOVER. 

THE ARTIST S LOVE. 
THE FATAL SECRET. 

LOVE’S LABOR WON. 
THE LOST HEIRESS. 


BRIDE OF LLEWELLYN. DESERTED WIFE. RETRIBUTION. 


JSSt' Jfrs. Southw orth’s works will be found for sale by all Booksellers . 
Copies of any one , or more of Mrs . Southworth' s works , will be sent to 
my place , post-paid , on remitting price of the ones wanted to the Publisher s t 

T. &, PETERSOX & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 





1’ 25 CENT SERI 



Books by Mrs. Soutliworth, Zola, etc., Published by 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, PHILADELPHIA, 

lnd for sale everywhere at 25 cents each. 

“PETERSONS' NEW 25 CENT SERIES ” are the best , the most popular, 
and the fastest-selling books ever printed. ALL of the follovnng books are in the 
; Series, and are now ready and for sale by ALL News Agents , (it ALL News and 
i- Hotel Stands, and by ALL Booksellers , and by ALL those that sell books EVERY* 
WHERE, and by the Publishers, T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 

CAMILLE; or, THE FATE OF A COQUETTE. By Alex. Dumas. 

KATHLEEN. A Charming Novel. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

TIIEO. A Sprightly Love Story. Bv Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

MISS CRESPIGNY. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

A QUIET LIFE. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

PRETTY POLLY PEMBERTON. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

LINDSAY’S LUCK. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

LINDA, or The Young Pilot of Belle Creole. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 

ROBERT GRAHAM. Sequel to “ Linda.” By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 

RENA; or, TIIE SNOW-BIRD. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 

MARCUS WARLAND. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz, author of “ Linda," 

EO LINE ; or, MAGNOLIA VA LE. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 

MARRYING OFF A DAUGHTER. By Henry Greville. 

DO SI A. Bv Henry Greville. Crowned bv the French Academy. 

THE PRAIRIE FLOWER. By Emerson Bennett 

LENI-LEOTI. Sequel to “ The Prairie Flov'er y bv Emerson Bennett. 

OUT OF THE DEPTHS. The otorv m a Woman’s Life. 

CLIQUOT, A Racing Sxory of Ideal Beauty. By Kate Lee Ferguson. 

INDIANA. A Fascinating Novel. By George Sand, author of “ Coosne!©.’* 

MY SON’S W*?fi. By the author of “ Caste,” “ Mr. Arle,” etc. 

MY HERO, (The Man I Love.) By Mrs. Forrester. 

A HEART TWICE WON, or Second Love. Bv Mrs. E. Van Loon. 

THE CONFESSIONS OF AN ABBE. By Louis Ulbach. 

HIGH LIFE IN NEW YORK. By Jonathan Slick. 

THE NEIGHBORS. By Fredrika Bremer. Translated by Mary Howitt. 

$33* We solicit Orders, Large or Small, from ALL News Agents , and from ALL 
News Stands, and from ALL Booksellers, and from ALL Persons that deal in books 
EVERYWHERE, for the books contained in “ PETERSONS' NEW 25 CENT 
SERIES,” who will be supplied with them, assorted , by the dozen, fifty, hundred or 
thousand, at very low rates. All can make money on them by engaging in their sale . 

703* We want Every News Agent, Every News Stand and Every Bookseller 
EVERYWHERE, to sell “PETERSONS' NEW 25 CENT SERIES,” and all that 
t re not now selling this popular Series of Books we should like to have them write us 
mt once for a Complete List- of them, and get our Net Prices for them, so as to order a 
Sample Lot direct of us, FOR THEY WILL FIND THEM TO BE THE 
HANDSOMEST, THE CHEAPEST AND FASTEST-SELLING BOOKS EVER 
PUBLISHED, and books they can make money on. Fifty bocks are now ready in 
4 PE'TERS0NS' NEW 25 CEN1 1 SERIES,” and anew one issued every two weeks . 

J03* Copies will be sent to any one, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers , 

£33* Address all orders for “ Petersons' New 25 Cent Series” to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia* P*., 

**e orders will meet with immediate and prompt attention . 


CENT SERIES. 

Books by Mrs. Southworth, Zola, etc., Published by 

T. B. PETEBSOX & BROTHERS, PHILADELPHIA, 

And for sale everywhere at 25 cents each. 

p®- “PETERSONS’ NEW 25 CENT SERIES” are the best, the most popular, 
<wnd the fastest-selling books ever printed. A LL of the following books ore in the 
Series, and are now ready and for sale by ALL News Agents, at ALL News and 
Hotel Stands, and by ALL Booksellers, and by ALL those that sell books E VER 
WHERE, and by the Publishers, T. B, Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 

TRIED FOR IIER LIFE. Bv Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

CRUEL AS THE GRAVE. Bv Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE CHANGED GUIDES. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE GUIDE’S FATE. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE GRIDAL EVE. Bv Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER. Bv Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE FAMILY DOOM. By Mrs. Emma'l). E. N. Southworth. 

THE MAIDEN WIDOW. Bv Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

RETRIBUTION. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

NANA. By Emile Zola. His Great Realistic Novel of Life in Paris. 

NANA’S DAUGHTER. A Sequel to Emile Zola’s Novel of “Nana” 

LA TERRE. By Emile Zola. Zola’s Last and one of his Greatest Books. 

L’ASSOMMOIR; or, NANA’S MOTHER. By Emile Zola. 

A GIRL’S LOVE. By Emile Zola, author of “ Nana.” 

HELENE. A Tale of Love and Passion. Bv Emile Zola. 

ALBINE; or, THE ABBE’S TEMPTATION. By Emile Zola. 

THE GIRL IN SCARLET. By Emile Zola, author of “ Nana.” 

NANA’S BRO THER; or, GERMINAL. By Emile Zola. 

A MAD LOVE *, or, THE ABBE AND HIS COURT. By Emile Zola. 

LE RE YE. {The Dream.) By Emile Zola, author of “ Nana.” 

FASHION AND FAMINE. Bv Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. 

THE OLD HOMESTEAD. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. 

THE O I D COUNTESS. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. 

LOUD HOPE’S CHOICE. ' By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. 

RUN DOWN. A Psychological Novel. By George D. Cox. 

We solicit Orders, Large or Small, from ALL Neios Agents, and from ALL 
yews Stands, and from ALL Booksellers, and from ALL Persons that deal in books 
EVERYWHERE, for the books contained in 11 PETERSONS’ NEW 25 CENT 
SERIES,” who will be supplied with them, assorted, by the dozen, fifty, hundred or 
thousand, at very low rates. All can make money on them by engaging in their sale. 

We want Every News Agent, Every News Stand and Every Bookseller 
EVERYWHERE, to sell “ PETERSONS’ NEW 25 CENT SERIES,” and all that 
are not now selling this popular Series of Books we should like to have them write us 
zt once for a Complete List of them, and get our Net Prices for them, so as to order a 
Sample Lot direct of us, FOR THEY WILL FIND THEM TO BE THE 
CHEAPEST AND FASTEST-SELLING BOOKS EVER PUBLISHED, and 
iooks they can make money on. Fifty books are noio ready in “ PETERSONS’ 
NEW 25 CENT SERIES,” and a new one is issued every two weeks. 

Copies will be sent to any one, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers. 

7/Z§~ Address all orders for “ Petersons’ New 25 Cem, Series” to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa* 
. nd the orders will meet with immediate and prompt attention. 





Books by Mrs. Southworth, Zola, etc., Published by 


T. B. PETERSOX & BROTHERS, PHILADELPHIA, 

And for sale everywhere at 23 cents each. 

igr “PE.TE&S&NS' NEW 25 CENT SERIES" of choice booJcs 
are the handsomest , the largest , the cheapest , the most popular, and the fastest- 
selling books ever printed. They are in sufficient variety to please young 
and old , grave and gay , and all classes of readers. The icorks in this Senes 
are by the leading renters of this country and Europe. Among the famous 
novelists represented in the Series are Mrs. Emma D. E. N Southrcorth, 
Emile Zola , Caroline Lee Hentz, Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett , Lady 
Gladys Hamilton , Captain Hawley Smart , Mrs. Ann S. Stephens , Henry 
Greville , John IJabberton, George Sand , Gustave Droz , and many others 
occupying an equally exalted high rank in literatilre. ONE HUNDRED 
different books are now ready in “ PETERSONS 1 NEW 25 CENT 
SERIES ," all of which are for sale by ALL Neivs Agents , at ALL News 
and Hotel Stands, and by ALL Booksellers , and by ALL those that sell books 
EVERYWHERE , and by the Publishers. T. B. Peterson A Brothers. 

We solicit Orders, Large or Small, from ALL News Agents, and 
from ALL News Stands, and from ALL Booksellers, and from ALL Per- 
sons that deal in books EVERYWHERE , for the books contained in 
“PETERSONS' NEW 25 CENT SERIES who will be supplied 
with them , assorted, by the dozen, fifty, 'hundred or thousand, at very, low 
rates. All persons can make money on them by engaging in their sale. 

■ VJT We want every News Agent, Every News Stand and Eveny Bookseller 
EVERYWHERE, to selV' PETER SONS' NEW 25 CENT SERIES," 

and all that are not now selling this popular Series of BooJcs toe should liJce 
to have them write us at once for a Complete List of them , and get our Net 
Prices for them, so as to order a Sample Lot direct of vs, FOR THEY 
WILL FIND THEM TO BE THE HANDSOMEST, THE 
LARGEST, THE CHEAPEST, AND THE FASTEST-SELLING 
BOOKS EVER PUBLISHED, and books they can make money on. 

m- ONE HUNDRED books are now ready in “ PETERSONS ’ 
NEW 25 CENT SERIES," and a new one is issued every two iveelcs. 

Address all orders for “ Petersons’ 25 Cent Se?'ies" to the publishers^ 
T. I>. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa., 
and the orders will meet with immediate and prompt attention. 


i( 'I consider l . IshmaeV to be my very ben 
book .” — Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth. 


irs. E. D. E. N. Southworth’s Last and Best Bocsk. 


IRS. SOUTHWORTH’S (TREAT "HEW YORK LEDGER” STORY. 

I S H M A E L 

OR, IN THE DEPTHS. 

BY MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH. 

Being Mrs. Southworth' s Greatest “New York Ledger ” Story. 

ONE VOLUME, MOROCCO CLOTh'.-PRICE $5.50. 

MRS. EMMA I). E. N. SOUTHWORTH 9 S COMPLETE 

WORKS. An entire new edition has just been published , in duodecimo form , 
printed on fine paper , complete in forty-three volumes, by 7 ’. B. Peterson Brothers , 
Philadelphia. They are bound in morocco cloth , library style, with a full gilt back, a nd 
'old by all Booksellers , everywhere , at the low price of $1.50 each, or $64.50 for a com - 
>lete set. Send for a complete list of them, which will be sent free on application. 

ffifP This edition contains a nezv Portrait of Mrs. Southworth, and her Autograph , 
also a view of her beautiful Home on the banks of the Potomac, both engraved on s. eel. 

f&jp Mrs. Southworth' s books have great originality, fine descriptions, startling 
incidents, scenes of pathos, are of pure moral tone, and should be read by everybody. 

jg Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth is acknowledged to be the greatest of all A mer- 
.jean female writers, and a set of her books should be in every home and in every library. 

ffidp* Copies of “ ISHMAEL ; or, IN THE DEPTHS," Mrs. Sou thwart Pi, 
greatest work, or any one or more of “Mrs. Southworth' s Works,” or a complete set of 
“Mrs. Southiuortli s Works,” bound in morocco cloth, will be sent to any one, to any 
address, at once, free of freight or postage, on remitting $1.50 for each book wanted, 
to the Publishers, T. B. Peterson 6° Brothers, 306 Qhestmu Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 

fffjf Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth' s books "will be found for sale by all Booksellers 
and News Agents everywhere. Canvassers wanted everywhere to engage in the./ sale. 

jgggT 5 Booksellers, News Agents and Canvassers will be supplied at very low rates, and 
they will please send in their orders at once to the publishers , 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa., 

C,nd they will receive imviediate and prompt attention. 






’ 25 CENT 



For sale everywhere at 25 cents each. 

MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTH WORTH’S WORKS. 


TRIED FOR HER LIFE. 
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE. 

FAIR PLAY. 

BllITOMARTE, The Man-Hater. 
HOW I1E WON HER. 

THE CAPTIVE BRIDE. 

THE CHANGED BRIDES. 


THE MISSING BRIDE. 
MIRIAM, THE AVENGER. 

THE MAIDEN WIDOW. 

THE BRIDAL EVE. 

THE BRIDE’S FATE. 
RETRIBUTION. 

THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER. 


THE FAMILY DOOxM. 


INDIA. 


LOVE’S LABOR WON. 


EMILE ZOLA’S GREAT REALISTIC WORKS. 


LA BETE HUMAINE. 

NANA. RENEE. 

NANA’S DAUGHTER. A Sequel to 
LA TERRE. 17 if ana. 

L’ASSOMMOIR ; or, Nana’s Mother. 
A GIRL’S LOVE. (Le Eeve.) 


COURT OF LOUIS NAPOLEON. 
THE GIRL IN SCARLET. 

A MAD LOVE; Abb6 and his Court. 
HELENE. A Tale of Love. 

ALBINE ; or, The Abbe’s Temptation. 
NANA’S BROTHER; or, Germinal. 


MRS. FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT’S BEST BOOKS. 


THEO. A QUIET LIFE. KATHLEEN. 

MISS CRESPIGNY. I LINDSAY’S LUCK. 

PRETTY POLLY PEMBERTON. I JARL’S DAUGHTER. 


MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS’ WORKS. 

FASHION AND FAMINE. | LORD HOPE’S CHOICE. 

OLD HOMESTEAD. MARRIED IN HASTE. OLD COUNTESS. 

MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ’S WORKS. 


ROBERT GRAHAM. LINDA! RENA; or, The Snowbird. 

EOLINE. HELEN AND ARTHUR. MARCUS WARLAND. 


25 CENT BOOKS BY THE BEST AUTHORS. 


THE CORSICAN BROTHERS. 
THE MILLIONAIRE’S WIFE. 
TWO KISSES. By Hawley Smart. 
CAMILLE ; or. The Fate of a Coquette. 

OUT OF THE DEPTHS. 
CONFESSIONS OF AN ABBE. 
HANDSOME MISS LISLE. 
WORTH THE WOOING. 

A HEART TWICE WON. 

CLARA MORELAND, and 

MY SON’S WIFE, and- 

MARRYING OFF A DAUGHTER, 
THE PRAIRIE FLOWER, and 


THE MATCHMAKER, by Reynolds. 
THE EXILES. A Russian Story. 
MRS. MAYBURN’S TWINS. 
MY LADY’S MASTER. 
BERTHA’S BABY. 
SAVELI’S EXPIATION. 
SIFTING MATRIMONY. 
GEMMA. Rv T. A. Trollope. 
SOCIETY RAPIDS. 
VIOLA. By Emerson Bennett. 

MY HERO. By Mrs. Forrester. 
and DOSIA. By Henry Greville. 
LEXI-LEOTI. Bv Emerson Bennett. 


CLIQUOT, By Kate Lee Ferguson, and RUN DOWN. "Bv George I). Cox. 
INDIANA. A Fascinating Novel. By George Sand, author of Consuelo.” 


Booksellers and News Agents will be supplied with any of the above books 
at low rates, assorted, as they may wish them , to make up a dozen , hundred, five 
hundred, or thousand, by the publishers, T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 
pit' Copies will be sent to any one, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers, 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 



Books by Mrs. Southworth, Zola, etc., Published by 

T. It. PETERSON & BROTHERS, PHILADELPHIA, 

And for sale everywhere at 25 cents each. 

TRIED FOR HER LIFE. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 
CRUEL AS THE GRAVE. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE CHANGED BRIDES. Bv Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE BRIDE’S FATE. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE BRIDAL EVE. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER. By Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth. 
THE FAMILY DOOM. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

THE MAIDEN WIDOW. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

NANA. By Emile Zola. His Great Realistic Novel of Life iu Paris. 

NANA’S DAUGHTER. A Sequel to Emile Zola’s Novel of “ Nana.” 

LA TERRE. By Emile Zola. Zola’s Last and Greatest Book. 
L’ASSOMMOIR ; or, NANA’S MOTHER. By Emile Zola. 

A GIRL’S LOVE. By Emile Zola, author of “ Nana.” 

HELENE. A Tale of Love and Passion. By Emile Zola. 

ALBINE; or, THE ABBE’S TEMPTATION. By Emile Zola. 

THE GIRL IN SCARLET. By Emile Zola, author of “ Nana.” 

NANA’S BROTHER; or, GERMINAL. By Emile Zola. 

LE REVE. (The Dream.) By Emile Zola, author of “ Nana.” 

FASHION AND FAMINE. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. 

THE OLD HOMESTEAD. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. 

THE OLD COUNTESS. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. 

LORD HOPE’S CHOICE. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. 

LINDA, or The Young Pilot of Belle Creole. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 
ROBERT GRAHAM. Sequel to “ Linda.” By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 
RENA; or, THE SNOW-BIRD. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz. 
MARCUS WARLAND. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz, author of “ Linda.” 
KATHLEEN. A Charming Novel. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 
THEO. A Sprightly Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

MISS CRESPIGNY. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

A QUIET LIFE. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

PRETTY POLLY PEMBERTON. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 
LINDSAY’S LUCK. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

MARRYING OFF A DAUGHTER. By Henry Greville. 

OUT OF THE DEPTHS. The Story of a Woman’s Life. 

CLIQUOT. A Racing Story of Ideal Beauty. By Kate Lee Ferguson. 
INDIANA. A Fascinating ISTovel. By George Sand, author of “ Consuelo,* 
MY SON’S WIFE. By the author of “ Caste,” “Mr. Arle,” etc. 

MY HERO. (The Man I Love.) By Mrs. Forrester. 

A HEART TWICE WON, or Second Love. By Mrs. E. Van Loon. 

THE CONFESSIONS OF AN ABBE. By Louis Ulbach. 

THE PRAIRIE FLOWER. By Emerson Bennett. 

RUN DOWN. A Psychological Novel. By George D. Cox. 
LENI-LEOTI. Sequel to “ The Prairie Flower.” By Emerson Bennett. 

jgt'N'cws Agents and Booksellers will be supplied with any of the above books, 
at very low rates , assorted , as they may wish them, to make up a dozen , hundred, five 
hundred, or thousand, by the publishers, T. B. Peterson <Sc Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 

/pSF Copies will be sent to any one, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa, 




Books by Mrs. Southworth, Zola, etc., Published by 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, PHILADELPHIA, 

And for sale everywhere at 25 cents each. 

“PETERSONS' NEW 25 CENT SERIES ' of choke booh 
are the handsomest , the largest , the cheapest , the most popular , and the fastest- 
selling boolcs ever printed. They are in sufficient variety to please young 
and old , grave and gay , and all classes of readers. The worlcs in this Series 
are by the leading icriters of this country and Europe. Among the famous 
novelists represented in the Series are Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Sonthworth , 
Emile Zola, Caroline Lee Hentz , Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, Lady 
Gladys Hamilton, Captain Hawley Smart, Mrs. Ann S. Stephens. Henry 
Greville , John Habberton , George Sand, Gustave Droz, and many others 
occupying an equally exalted high rank in literature. ONE HUNDRED 
different books are now ready in '"PETERSONS' NEW 25 CENT 
SERIES," all of which are for sale by ALL News Agents , at ALL News 
and Hotel Stands, and by ALL Boolcsellers, and by ALL those that sell books 
EVERYWHERE, and by the Publishers, T. B. Peterson & Brothers. 

We solicit Orders, Large or Small, from ALL News Agents, and 
from ALL News Stands, and from ALL Booksellers, and from ALL Per- 
sons that deal in boolcs EVERYWHERE , for the boolcs contained in 
“ PETERSONS' NEW 25 CENT SERIES," who will be supplied 
with them, assorted, by the dozen, fifty , hundred or thousand , at very low 
rates. All persons can make money on them by engaging in their sale. 

We want every News Agent, Every News Stand and Every Bookseller 
EVERYWHERE, to sell 11 PETER SONS' NEW25 CENT SERIES," 
and all that are not now selling this popular Series of Books we should like 
to have them write us at once for a Complete List of them, and get our Net 
Prices for them , so as to order a Sample Lot direct of ns, FOR THEY 
WILL FIND III EM TO BE THE HANDSOMEST, THE 
LARGEST, THE CHEAPEST, AND THE FA S TEST- SELLING 
BOOKS EVER PUBLISHED, and boolcs they can mqke money on. 

BSP ONE HUNDRED books are now ready in “ PETERSONS' 
NEW 25 CEN1 SERIES," and a new one is issued every two weeks. 

BSP Address all orders for '‘''Petersons' 25 Cent Series" to the publishers, 
T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa., 
and the orders will meet with immediate and prompt attention. 









































. 











•• • 
























f 

\ - 

■ 

* 










• ■ 










































































.. V 




' . 














































4 






























i r 




i 


i 


t 


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


ooomriast .2 


v rVi 


i* 4 t v .« j,v ,»• n. v 

i\« ,s« ;« :/ FMV ; 

• jf *;» 2 vV, .1 1 * • •; • ■ ' 'J'tfM 

*'l\ t ty 'A <• :** ^ : 

r • f t * f ? % *4 'i ti 4 * * f c i '* 4 t i 

:t f * * . . j 4 4 •; ;( ♦ .•**.* '• .. I 


: # * V * . 1 ' ,.i i 

• #V\* fvVll 

ill: 4 * 1* f *4 r 1 * ilk 


i • * 


} *i V* j i if 


/ i : « : 


' . « yl 

| I Wit 1 


:'» * 7 * t \ i * ' , 

.?•;••' * ‘ ; 


* . *. 


U 1 ^ !» 


ut • * ' ? , J v > . 

to * #; * f . 1 ; \4 f » ['J 
, • %/.- • • £ 


